PRINCESS 

AND 

LORI 


CAROLINE-SHELDON 


•    -  •      >  / 

es  tsisi/i  ex.  .  01—     ^/y~ 

//      V,  /»/4-  /?      ~    3^ 

((j?  1/T/Y?s'Z*-    f,^7  OL^>      /  7 //   V    - 


PRINCESS  and  PILGRIM 

IN  ENGLAND 


.   OF  CALIF.   LIBRARY,   LOS  ANGELES 


THE  MASTER  OF  RUGBY. 


PRINCESS  AND 


PILGRIM 


IN    ENGLAND 


BY 


CAROLINE  SHELDON 


WASHINGTON,    D.    C. 

THE    LUCAS-LINCOLN    COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1904, 

By 
The  Lucas-Lincoln  Company 


"  Coelum   non   animum    mutant    qui   trans 
mare  currunt." 

HORACE,  EPISTOLA  X. 

'*  When  I  was  at  home  I   was  in  a  better 
place,  but  travelers  must  be  content." 

"As  You  LIKE  IT." 


2132757 


PRINCESS    AND    PILGRIM    IN    ENG- 
LAND. 

CHAPTER  I. 

CHIEFLY  INTRODUCTORY. 

Princess  and  I  have  traveled  much  to- 
gether, by  land  and  sea,  in  sunshine  and  in 
storm,  in  far  countries  and  in  our  own  be- 
loved land.  We  know  all  each  other's  little 
ways — a  most  desirable  thing  for  traveling 
companions ;  better  still,  we  have  learned  not 
to  waste  time  and  energy  in  trying  to  make 
each  other  over;  we  have  further  learned  to 
avoid  friction  by  refraining  from  the  perni- 
cious practice  of  trying  to  make  each  other 
comfortable  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  ex- 
perimenter without  regard  to  the  taste  of  the 
victim. 

If  Princess  chooses  to  go  to  bed  at  eight 
o'clock,  she  does  so;  quietly  and  peaceably, 
without  ostentation  or  unpleasant  display  of 
virtue.  She  never  makes  disagreebale  re- 
marks about  persons  who  burn  candles,  oil, 


8  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

or  gas  to  unseemly  hours  of  the  night,  nor 
is  she  ever  guilty  of  hinting  that  early  rising 
is  conducive  to  health,  wealth  and  wisdom. 
(My  respect  for  Benjamin  Franklin  would  be 
far  greater  if  he  had  never  written  that  mean 
little  rhyme;  it  is  the  one  manifestation  of 
weakness  on  the  part  of  an  otherwise  power- 
ful intellect). 

If  more  persons  would  adopt  the  amiable 
plan  of  the  Princess,  doubtless  many  divorces 
might  be  avoided.  However,  this  is  mere 
theory,  founded  upon  observation  only,  not 
reinforced  by  experience. 

I  have  conferred  upon  this  friend  of  mine 
the  title  of  Princess  because  she  has  an  air, 
not  arrogant,  but  with  a  nameless  flavor  of 
distinction,  which  causes  railway  officials,  ser- 
vants, hotel  porters,  and  the  rest  of  their 
tribe,  to  attend  with  cheerful  readiness  to  her 
slightest  wish.  With  myself  all  is  different. 
These  persons  treat  me  politely  and  comply 
rather  promptly  with  my  requests,  but  al- 
ways with  a  touch  of  condescension,  as  if  they 
considered  me  an  untaught,  inexperienced 


IN  ENGLAND.  9 

person,  astray  from  home,  and  unable  without 
aid  to  find  way  back. 

We  are  both  fond  of  purple  and  fine  linen, 
though  we  own  little  of  either;  but  Princess 
is  aristocratic  in  a  golf  skirt,  a  shirt-waist,  and 
a  sailor  hat,  whereas  I,  in  such  attire,  look 
like  a  parlor-maid  out  of  a  place.  She  is 
canny  and  thrifty;  I,  on  the  other  hand,  but 
for  her  restraining  influence,  should  probably 
spend  my  all  on  fascinating  old  books,  photo- 
graphs, and  casts,  being  thereby  reduced  to 
beg  my  way  home. 

Princess  never  really  objects  to  the  books, 
on  the  contrary,  she  often  encourages  me  to 
buy  good  ones;  but  occasionally,  mindful  of 
the  limited  space  in  our  three-room  suite,  she 
looks  disapprovingly  at  some  rather  large 
cast,  which  she  thinks  I  meditate  buying,  and 
says  in  low,  even,  but  expressive  tones — 

"Peregrina,  where  do  you  think  of  putting 
that  object  when  you  get  it  home?" 

We  have  crossed  the  ocean  together  many 
times ;  now  on  fast  steamers,  occasionally  on 
slow  ones;  sometimes  in  the  first  cabin; 
again,  in  the  second ;  and  we  have  even  gone 


io  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

so  far  as  to  consider  trying  the  steerage, 
"just  for  once." 

This  is  the  way  the  idea  came  to  us.  With 
a  view  to  economizing  and  at  the  same  time 
shortening  the  agonies  of  sea-sickness  for 
Princess,  who,  despite  much  paying  of  trib- 
ute, has  never  been  able  to  put  herself  on  a 
friendly  footing  with  the  powers  of  the  deep, 
we  had  taken  up  our  quarters  in  the  second 
cabin  of  an  "ocean  greyhound/' 

The  first  cabin  people  seemed  to  be  having 
rather  a  dull  time.  We  did  not  hear  of  any 
celebrated  actress  among  them,  any  Ameri- 
can heiress  who  had  recently  invested  in  a 
title,  nor  yet  of  a  divorcee  or  other  centre 
of  scandal.  Our  "betters"  sat  around  on  the 
deck  very  quietly,  not  having,  apparently, 
the  energy  necessary  for  making  explorations 
"abaft  the  rail."  This  is  usually  a  favorite 
amusement  of  certain  among  them,  who 
regard  the  other  persons  on  board  as  belong- 
ing to  a  different  order  of  creation  from 
themselves,  a  sort  of  zoological  collection. 

With  us,  matters  were  quite  different. 
Across  the  table  from  Princess  and  myself, 


IN  ENGLAND.  n 

there  sat  at  meals  a  little  English  variety  act- 
ress. Her  coiffure  was  copied  from  that  of  a 
Scotch  terrier,  and  her  h's  were  scattered  all 
over  decks,  cabins,  companion-ways,  and 
gangways.  She  flirted  indiscriminately  with 
everything  masculine  that  came  within  her 
reach;  told  many  anecdotes,  credible  and 
otherwise,  of  her  friends  and  kinsfolk  in  "the 
profession,"  and  was  altogether  most  amus- 
ing and  entertaining. 

Also,  titles  not  being  confined  to  the  first 
cabin,  there  was  among  us  a  Swedish  count, 
several  returning  consuls,  two  Arctic  explor- 
ers, and  clergymen  of  every  denomination 
known  to  the  church  militant.  We  derived 
much  instruction  and  entertainment  from  the 
conversation  and  behavior  of  our  fellow  voy- 
agers, and  only  feared  that  we  ourselves  were 
not  sufficiently  interesting  to  make  an  ade- 
quate return.  One  evening  the  fact  was 
brought  home  to  us  that  despite  all  our  ad- 
vantages of  location,  we  might  have  done 
better  still. 

Through  the  hatchway  astern  floated  up 
the  strains  of  "Money  Musk,"  played  with 


w  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

much  expression  and  verve  on  a  good  violin ; 
and,  keeping  time  to  the  music,  was  heard 
the  rhythm  of  dancing  feet.  The  sound  did 
not  suggest  the  languid  glide  of  the  fashion- 
able ball-room,  but  the  energetic  rush,  swing, 
and  stamp  of  your  true  dancer,  never  bored 
or  indifferent,  but  entering  into  the  joy  of  the 
hour  with  spirit  and  gaiety.  The  singing  of 
glees  and  choruses  followed  the  dancing ;  and 
then  a  girl  declaimed  to  the  delight  of  the 
audience,  if  one  might  judge  by  the  hearty 
applause. 

Feasting  our  eyes  upon  the  splendors  of  a 
June  sunset  over  an  opal  sea,  and  the  later 
glories  of  the  moonrise,  and  listening  to  this 
varied  program,  we  agreed  that  while  the 
second  cabin  was  more  interesting  than  the 
first,  the  odds  of  real  enjoyment  were  with 
the  steerage  when  the  steamer  is  eastward 
bound. 

Then  we  bethought  ourselves  of  another 
steamer  in  which  we  had  crossed  the  At- 
lantic; a  slow-moving  vessel,  whose  deliber- 
ate progress  gave  us  ample  time  to  learn 
much  of  the  occupations,  dispositions,  and 


IN  ENGLAND.  13 

histories  of  our  fellow  travelers.  On  this  pas- 
sage I  had,  with  interest  and  profit  to  my- 
self, spent  much  time  on  the  steerage  deck. 

There  was  one  child  among  the  passengers 
in  that  part  of  the  ship  who  attracted  special 
attention.  She  was  a  little  Irish  girl,  and, 
her  name  being  unknown  to  her  admirers  in 
the  cabin,  she  was,  by  common  consent,  call- 
ed Katy.  She  was  a  tiny  creature,  five  years 
old  perhaps,  with  a  square,  undeniably  Irish 
face ;  she  was  not  pretty,  but  very  attractive, 
because  of  the  winning  smile  that  revealed 
dimples  in  the  firm,  sun-browned  cheeks, 
kindly  curves  about  the  mouth,  and  a  soft 
glow  in  the  deep  blue  eyes.  Below  her  short 
print  gown  were  seen  bare,  sturdy  legs  and 
feet,  browned  by  sun  and  wind;  her  head 
was  covered  by  a  little  wool  shawl,  knotted 
under  her  chin ;  and  her  chubby  hands  were 
scrupulously  clean.  * 

Katy  often  played  ring-toss  all  by  herself; 
and  so  sweet  and  winsome  was  the  face  under 
the  little  shawl,  that  we  greatly  enjoyed 
watching  the  tiny  maid  at  her  solitary  game. 
The  first  time  we  saw  her  try,  every  ring 


i4  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

failed  to  reach  the  pole;  but,  nothing 
daunted,  she  began  again,  and  before  we  left 
had  succeeded  in  landing  each  circle  exactly 
where  it  ought  to  go. 

"That  little  girl,"  observed  the  Preacher, 
"has  three  excellent  traits:  patience,  perse- 
verance, and  a  sunny  temper." 

We  laid  the  moral  to  heart,  and  moved  on. 

This  fashion  of  naming  our  fellow  passen- 
gers according  to  our  fancy  is  a  very  con- 
venient one.  Doubtless  the  persons  con- 
cerned would  not  recognize  themselves 
under  the  titles  we  apply  to  them,  which  is 
well;  but  we  understand  each  other,  and 
grow  to  have  a  kindness  for  them,  names 
and  all ;  in  fact,  we  are  often  disappointed  to 
find  that  their  lawful  appellations  s'eem  to  be 
misfits. 

We  scarcely  ever  leave  a  ship  carrying  with 
us  anything  but  kindly  thoughts  of  the  people 
who  have  shared  with  us  the  pleasures,  priv- 
ileges, discomforts  and  joys  of  our  voyage. 
Human  nature  is,  in  the  main,  lovable;  and 
unpretentious  folk  often  show  each  other 
much  good-will  when  closely  associated  for 


IN  ENGLAND.  15 

even  a  short  time.  Besides,  the  voyage  is  a 
rare  one  on  which  we  fail  to  see  the  begin- 
ning of  one  or  more  romances,  some  of  which 
never  go  beyond  the  bud,  while  others  blos- 
som under  our  very  eyes ;  for  it  is  astonish- 
ing how  the  passengers  of  the  same  ship 
meet  each  other  over  and  over  again  after 
landing,  and,  as  every  right-minded  woman 
is  always  interested  in  a  love  affair,  we  are 
always  open-eyed  to  watch  the  progress  of 
any  that  we  have  noted  previously.  There  is 
something  really  beautiful  about  the  feminine 
interest  in  matters  of  this  kind.  It  makes 
no  difference  how  many  matches  a  woman 
has  seen  turn  out  badly,  she  always  hopes 
that  the  next  one  to  come  under  her  obser- 
vation may  result  in  the  ideal  fashion.  This 
perennial  faith  is  one  of  the  essential  ingre- 
dients of  the  "eternal  womanly.'* 

A  sea  voyage  is  a  continual  feast  for  the 
eye.  The  colors  of  sky  and  water  vary  from 
hour  to  hour,  from  moment  to  moment.  I 
once  tried  to  keep  a  diary  of  my  voyage  in 
water  color,  recording  the  face  of  each  day 
in  a  little  sketch.  The  rapid  shifting  of  light, 


16  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

as  clouds  drifted  across  the  sky,  or  the 
steamer  changed  her  course,  made  it  almost 
impossible  to  secure  a  truthful  picture ;  what 
was  true  one  moment  was  false  the  next. 
Yet  those  little  sketches,  with  all  their  im- 
perfections, bring  back  the  memory  of  much 
pure  and  intense  joy,  and  I  would  not  ex- 
change them  for  hundreds  of  "Kodak"'  views 
with  their  machine-like  accuracy. 

Once,  in  despair  over  the  inadequacy  of 
my  sketches,  I  gave  vent  to  my  feelings 
thus: 

"The  sea  is  grey  and  mournful, 
It  is  blue  as  a  sapphire  fair; 
It  is  regal  in  Tyrian  purple, 
Or  black  with  sullen  despair. 

'Tis  outspread  in  the  misty  sunset, 

A  sheet  of  mother-of-pearl ; 
It  dimples  and  laughs  in  the  dayshine 

Like  a  merry,  roguish  girl. 

It  is  green,  like  a  perfect  beryl 

Built  into  the  heavenly  wall; 
It  glows  like  a  floor  of  topaz ; 

It  is  heavy  and  dark  as  a  pall. 


IN  ENGLAND.  17 

And  over  it  bend  the  heavens, 

An  ever-changing  arch, 
Through  which  the  cloud-battalions 

Sweep,  and  scurry,  and  march. 

Plateaux  of  rosy  splendor 
'Neath  peaks  of  a  pearl-built  world, 

Fling  out  their  crimson  banners 
And  feathery  pennons  unfurled. 

The  walls  of  a  city  of  vision 

Are  shining  and  glowing  there ; 
While  below  them  a  violet  island 

Drifts  by  in  the  dream-laden  air. 

No  colors  have  I  to  match  them, 

These  dazzling  hues  of  the  sky; 
I  will  lay  away  paper  and  palette, 

And  put  all  my  brushes  by; 

And  perchance,  in  the  night's  still  watches, 

In  a  sleep  lit  by  magical  gleams, 
The  sea,  for  a  breath,  will  be  changeless, 

And  I'll  paint  it  once — in  my  dreams. 

Complaints    are    often    made    about    the 
monotony  of  a  sea  voyage;   but,  if  the  trav- 
eler settles  down  to  live  during  the  time  of 
2 


i8  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

the  passage,  instead  of  regarding  it  as  a  pe- 
riod of  suspended  animation,  the  journey  is 
full  of  variety  and  interest. 

We  are  always  eager  to  see  our  stewardess 
and  learn  what  manner  of  woman  she  is,  be- 
cause upon  her  so  much  of  Princess'  comfort 
depends.  It  must  be  said  that  we  have  always 
been  fortunate  in  this  respect.  We  have  had 
stewardesses  of  various  nationalities,  Eng- 
lish, Irish,  Scotch,  Belgian  and  Italian,  and 
we  are  scarcely  prepared  to  say  which  we 
have  liked  best. 

Once  we  had  an  Irish  stewardess  who 
must  have  kissed  the  Blarney  stone  several 
times,  for  her  flattery  was  both  abundant  and 
tactful,  and  combined  with  inexhaustible  pa- 
tience and  ingenuity.  Of  course,  we  knew 
that  many  of  the  sweet  nothings  lavished 
upon  us  were  given  with  an  eye  single  to  our 
pocketbooks,  but,  as  Marcella  hath  it,  we  all 
like  to  be  "bobbed  to,"  and  each  of  us  has  a 
little  bit  of  snobbishness  lurking  in  some 
unsuspected  corner.  Moreover,  the  Irish 
woman  was  an  artist  and  did  much  of  her 
blarneying  for  the  sheer  delight  of  exercis- 


IN  ENGLAND.  19 

ing  her  talents.  Genuine  art  is  always  inter- 
esting. 

There  was  a  Scotswoman  on  one  of  the 
ships  of  the  Anchor  Line,  who  told  us  to 
keep  our  stomachs  "warrum  and  dhry."  She 
also  gave  us  much  interesting  information, 
afterward  proved  correct,  about  the  Scottish 
school  system,  and  the  municipal  government 
of  Glasgow.  She  administered  the  informa- 
tion in  small  doses,  in  the  intervals  of  fetch- 
ing and  carrying  to  make  us  comfortable.  It 
was  a  stormy  passage  that  we  made  under 
her  care ;  we  had  retreated  to  our  room  only 
after  being  blown  out  of  our  chairs  by  a 
sudden  and  powerful  gust — "a  bim  wind," 
our  guardian  angel  pronounced  it — and, 
as  it  was  several  days  before  we  ventured 
forth  again,  our  "neat-handed  Phyllis"  did 
not  lack  occupation. 

I  lost  my  heart  entirely  to  a  rasy  English 
woman  who  carried  me  through  a  siege  of 
sea-sickness  on  one  of  the  steamers  plying 
between  Philadelphia  and  Liverpool.  She 
was  a  beauty,  with  silky  brown  hair,  dark 
gray  eyes,  a  complexion  like  wild  rose  petals, 


20  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

and  a  voice  that  would  have  been  a  fortune 
to  Lucrezia  Borgia.  Verily,  if  that  woman 
had  offered  me  a  "cup  of  cold  pizen,"  assur- 
ing me  in  her  velvety  chest  tones  that  it 
would  do  me  "so  much  good,"  I  should  have 
swallowed  the  dose  without  protest,  serenely 
confident  that  it  would  work  miracles  in  the 
way  of  relieving  dizziness  in  my  head,  and 
putting  a  stop  to  the  compound  rotary  mo- 
tion in  what  had  at  some  prehistoric  period 
been  my  stomach. 

We  once  had  a  Belgian  stewardess  who 
was  as  entertaining  as  a  two-ring  circus  and 
as  hard  to  keep  in  sight.  She  could  not  read 
the  bill  of  fare,  and  invariably  forgot  my 
carefully-made  French  translations,  when  I 
ordered  meals  for  the  Princess.  The  results, 
which  were  both  ludicrous  and  irritating,  oc- 
casioned many  interviews  with  that  mighty, 
but  good-natured,  potentate,  the  chief  stew- 
ard, and  many  unpleasant  delays  in  serving 
the  repasts  of  Her  Royal  Highness.  At  last, 
I  I  took  to  making,  with  a  pencil,  the  names  of 
1  the  required  articles  of  food,  after  which  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  21 

commissary  department,  so  far  as  we  were 
concerned,  ran  smoothly. 

The  one  Italian  stewardess  into  whose 
hands  we  have  thus  far  fallen,  was  charming. 
She  was  pretty  to  begin  with — all  steward- 
esses should  be  pretty,  it's  so  good  for  tired 
eyes  to  have  something  agreeable  to  look  at. 
She  had  a  voice  almost  as  sweet  as  my  Eng- 
lishwoman's, and  the  exquisite  courtesy  that 
seems  the  birthright  of  her  race,  from  the 
royal  family  to  the  peasants  of  the  Campagna 
and  the  gondoliers  of  Venice.  This  may  be 
insincere,  as  certain  cynics  declare,  but  it  is 
beautiful  and  wonderfully  agreeable.  If 
people  are  to  cheat  me,  I  prefer  that  they  do 
.it  with  a  due  observance  of  polite  forms. 
Moreover,  when  I  sum  up  my  experiences 
in  various  lands,  I  can  not  remember  that  I 
have  been  deceived  and  robbed  by  courteous 
Italians  and  polished  Frenchmen  any  more 
than  by  gruff  Germans  and  blunt  English- 
men ;  and  the  Latins  have  ruffled  my  temper 
far  less  than  the  Teutons. 

In  fact,  as  you  will  see,  the  Princess  and  I 
set  forth  u.pon  our  little  jaunts  with  quite  an 


22  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

obstinate  determination  to  be  pleased  and 
have  a  good  time;  .and  we  avoid  grumblers 
and  fault-finders  as  we  should  a  mad  dog  or 
the  cholera.. 

It  was  on  our  last  voyage  to  England  that 
we  came  upon  our  most  interesting  romance 
— ours  by  right  of  discovery. 

We  were  crossing  on  a  slow  steamer,  and 
it  was  toward  the  end  of  the  second  day. 
Princess,  a  trifle  unsteady  in  her  gait,  had 
decided  to  take  the  air  on  deck  for  a  little 
while.  I  was  wondering  how  she  was  to  be 
maintained  in  an  upright  position  while  I 
arranged  blankets  and  cushions  in  her  chair, 
when  a  cheery  masculine  voice  with  a  famil- 
iar ring,  said, 

"Let  me  help  you." 

I   looked  at  the   speaker  and  recognized 
!  Ned  Andrews,  a  cousin  several  times  remov- 
ed, a  great  friend  of  ours  from  childhood.    At 
the  same  moment  he  became  aware  of  our 
identity  and  continued: 

"O,  it's  really  you.  I  got  hold  of  a  pas- 
senger list  only  half  an  hour  ago,  and  have 
been  hunting  for  you  ever  since.  Let  me  put 


IN  ENGLAND.  23 

Princess  in  her  chair,  and  then  we  can  ex- 
plain how  we  all  happen  to  be  here." 

So  Ned  supported  Princess  while  I  placed 
the  pillows;  then  he  put  her  into  her  chair 
and  tucked  the  rugs  about  her,  performed  the 
like  kind  offices  for  me,  after  which  he 
perched  on  the  rail  near  by,  one  arm  wound 
about  a  stout  rod,  and  surveyed  us  with 
amiable  satisfaction. 

"I  heard  you  were  going  to  England  this 
summer,"  he  began  soon,  pushing  his  dark 
blue  cap  back  from  his  face.  "But  I  under- 
stood you  were  going  on  a  Cunarder,  and  so 
wasn't  looking  for  you.  Where  have  you 
kept  yourselves?  I  should  think  I'd  have 
run  over  you  before  this  time,  there  aren't 
many  more  than  a  hundred  cabin  passengers 
on  board." 

"We  did  think  of  going  on  a  Cunarder," 
Princess  replied,  "but  decided  that  the  long 
voyage  would  give  us  a  nice  rest.  I  think 
the  Van  Ruyters  feasted  us  too  abundantly 
while  we  were  in  Philadelphia,  for  even  Pere- 
grina  hasn't  felt  like  herself  since  we  started." 

Just  then  Helen  Curtis,  whose  chair  with 


24  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

her  aunt's  had  been  placed  next  ours,  came 
to  sit  down  with  us.  Of  course,  we  intro- 
duced our  cousin,  and  noticed  with  pleasure 
his  admiring  glance  at  our  friend.  Helen  is 
such  a  pretty  girl  that  it  would  be  unpardon- 
able in  anyone  not  to  admire  her,  so  we  noted 
with  satisfaction  that  Ned's  taste  was  cor- 
rect. Helen  is  a  slender  girl,  with  dark  hair 
that  even  damp  weather  never  renders 
stringy,  deep  blue  eyes  with  long  dark  lashes, 
and  a  complexion  in  which  the  color  comes 
and  goes  so  quickly  that  one  never  knows 
whether  to  say  she  is  rosy  or  pale.  She 
stayed  with  us  only  a  short  time,  finding  it 
necessary  to  pay  frequent  visits  to  her  aunt, 
who  is  always  thoroughly  miserable  on  ship- 
board, and  does  her  best  to  keep  everyone 
around  her  from  enjoying  the  voyage. 

"Miss  Curtis,"  observed  Ned,  reflectively, 
after  Helen  had  gone  below;  "I  don't  re- 
member ever  hearing  you  speak  of  Miss 
Curtis." 

"No,"  responded  Princess,  "you  never  did. 
She  is  a  friend  of  the  Van  Ruyters.  When 
they  found  that  we  were  all  coming  on  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  25 

same  steamer,  they  invited  the  four  of  us  to 
spend  a  few  days  with  them  before  sailing. 
We  like  Helen  very  much,  but  Miss  Brad- 
ford is  a  perfect  dragon.  You'll  need  to 
mind  your  p's  and  q's  when  she's  about.  She 
thinks  any  man  who  is  not  a  graduate  of  the 
Boston  Latin  School  and  Harvard  University 
is  an  ignoramus  'absolutely  without  culture.' 
You  don't  happen  to  have  had  any  ancestors 
on  board  the  Mayflower,  do  you?  Brush  up 
your  genealogical  chart,  and  prepare  to  be 
catechised.  For,  as  soon  as  Aunt  Minerva 
hears  you've  been  introduced  to  Helen,  she'll 
be  looking  into  your  antecedents.  'It  is  im- 
possible to  be  too  careful  about  a  young  girl's 
acquaintances.'  ' 

Ned  laughed  at  Princess'  imitation  of  Miss 
Bradford's  manner,  then  he  said,  slowly — 

"She's  right  to  guard  her  niece  carefully. 
I'm  afraid  I  haven't  any  Mayflower  ances- 
tors, have  I?  You  ought  to  know." 

"Our  English  ancestors  came  over  in 
1630,"  replied  Princess,  "and  the  others  were 
patroons  in  the  Mohawk  Valley.  You'll  find 
it  necessary  to  stand  on  your  merits,  my  boy ; 


26 

you're  without  aristocratic  ancestry,  and  were 
educated  at  a  'fresh  water  college.'  It  will 
test  your  mettle  to  get  into  Aunt  Minerva's 
good  graces." 

Ned  smiled  at  Jhe  Princess  with  an  air  of 
perfect  understanding.  Soon  he  began  ask- 
ing questions  about  our  numerous  relatives. 
We,  looking  at  his  strong,  well-knit  figure, 
his  clear,  honest  gray  eyes,  and  square,  de- 
termined chin,  had  not  much  doubt  that  Aunt 
Minerva's  prejudices  would  give  way  in  time. 
We  remembered,  too,  that  Ned  usually  has 
what  he  really  wishes  to  have,  if  pluck,  en- 
ergy and  tact  can  gain  it. 

It  will  be  understood  from  the  foregoing 
remarks  that  Princess  and  I  already  had 
plans  for  our  two  friends.  Indeed,  after 
spending  a  week  with  the  aunt  and  niece  at 
the  Van  Ruyters,  we  had  said  to  each  other — 

"How  perfectly  that  girl  would  suit  Ned." 

To  the  young  man  himself,  however,  we 
said  nothing  of  the  kind,  but  played  upon 
certain  qualities  of  his,  well  known  to  both 
of  us,  by  telling  him  of  the  lion  in  the  way, 
in  the  person  of  the  uncompromising  aunt. 


IN  ENGLAND.  V 

'  It  will  come  out  all  right,"  said  Princess 
to  me  in  our  state  room  that  night,  "if  we 
don't  spoil  matters  by  getting  too  eager  to 
help.  It's  easy  to  see  that  he  admires  her 
very  much  already.  If  Aunt  Minerva  is  •'only 
obliged  to  stay  below  a  good  deal  they'll  be 
pretty  well  acquainted  by  the  time  we  land. 
Then  a  little  opposition  and  snubbing  from 
Miss  Bradford  will  rouse  Ned,  and  I'll  risk 
him.  Middle-aged  women  always  think  him 
perfection." 

"I've  never  seen  many  women — or  men 
either — of  any  age  that  didn't  like  Ned,  or  at 
least  respect  him  thoroughly,"  I  answered  as 
I  turned  out  the  light. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CHESTER. 

Old  Chester,  quiet  city  by  the  Dee, 

What  ancient  memories  cluster  'round  thy  name. 

While  all  things  change,  thy  calm  is  still  the  same, 
The  hurry  of  our  time  disturbs  not  thee. 
Kingdoms  may  rise  and  fall  and  empires  wane; 

New  lands  be  found  beyond  the  swelling  sea; 
But  here  there  comes  no  thought  of  loss  or  gain, 

If  but  thy  streets  and  lanes  in  quiet  be. 
Caesar  may  pass  once  more  with  all  his  train, 
Wild  rumors  rise  of  fierce,  invading  Dane; 

Charles  see  his  bands  dispersed  to  meet  no  more ; 
Secure  thou  sittest  in  thy  old-world  calm, 

Though  surging  life-tides  beat  about  thy  door, 
Unmoved  by  laurel  wreath  or  martyr's  palm. 

Princess  and  I  had  decided  to  spend  the 
whole  summer  in  England,  doing  our  trav- 
eling in  a  very  comfortable  leisurely  fashion, 
and  Miss  Bradford  and  Helen  had  decided  to 
be  of  our  company.  Ned  had  come  over  on 
some  business,  but  expected  to  do  a  little 
sight-seeing  between  times,  so  we  had  given 


IN  ENGLAND.  29 

him  a  copy  of  our  itinerary,  inviting  him  to 
join  us  whenever  it  was  convenient  and 
agreeable. 

Our  cousin  had  been  introduced  to  Miss 
Bradford  only  on  the  last  day  of  the  voyage, 
when  the  expected  catechising  had  taken 
place.  Nevertheless  the  young  man  had 
made  such  good  use  of  his  opportunities  dur- 
ing that  half  day,  that,  as  we  were  crossing 
from  Liverpool  to  Chester  by  ferry  Miss 
Minerva  remarked  to  me  that  "Mr.  Andrews 
seemed  an  excellent  young  man ;  such  a  pityl 
he  had  not  had  the  advantages  of  a  university 
training." 

We  came  near  lingering  at  Chester  for  the 
entire  season.  The  quiet  of  the  town,  its 
flavor  of  antiquity,  its  absolute  freedom  from 
worry  and  bustle,  all  suited  our  mood.  In 
our  native  land,  we  read  the  morning  paper 
regularly,  and  feel  aggrieved  if  the  boy  who 
delivers  it  delays  his  coming,  so  that  we 
are  unable  to  learn  and  discuss,  over  eight 
o'clock  toast  and  coffee,  the  latest  news  from 
the  remotest  quarters  of  the  globe.  If  our 
neighbor's  puppy,  as  sometimes  happens, 


30  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

pursues  his  investigations  in  advance  of  ours, 
and  gnaws  out  the  middle  of  the  most  inter- 
esting articles,  great  is  our  wrath,  and  im- 
minent the  danger  of  destruction  overhang- 
ing that  sprawling  young  animal.  But,  after 
a  week  or  two  on  shipboard  without  news- 
papers, we  learn  to  be  quite  comfortable, 
knowing  nothing  either  of  the  results  of  the 
last  election  or  the  special  attractions  on  Y's 
bargain  counter.  Therefore  when  we  had 
passed  our  inspection  under  the  eyes  of  the 
polite  customs  officials  at  Liverpool,  and 
transferred  ourselves  and  our  impedimenta  to 
our  quaint  inn  at  Chester,  we  fell  very  nat- 
urally into  the  ways  of  the  place,  and  felt 
that  we  should  be  content  to  abide  there  for 
an  indefinite  period. 

On  the  evening  after  our  arrival  we  decid- 
ed to  walk  around  the  city  walls.  They  are 
said  to  follow  the  line  of  Caesar's  fortifica- 
tions, but  have  been  renewed  from  time  to 
time,  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  determine  the 
exact  period  at  which  a  given  part  was  built, 
unless  the  observer  is  an  expert  in  judging 
the  age  of  masonry.  To  an  imaginative, 


IN  ENGLAND.  31 

inexact  feminine  mind,  this  is  rather  an  ad- 
vantage than  otherwise ;  the  whole  structure 
has  a  delightful  suggestion  of  by-gone  times ; 
and  for  an  especially  pleasing  spot,  one  has  a 
range  of  two  thousand  years  to  choose  from ; 
while,  in  order  to  preserve  one's  illusions,  it 
is  only  necessary  to  refrain  from  reading 
those  paragraphs  in  the  guide  books  which 
deal  with  dates,  and  from  listening  to  the 
remarks  of  those  superfluous  individuals  who 
persist  in  deluging  their  hearers  with  un- 
sought information.  The  best  method  to  pur- 
sue with  a  person  of  this  class  is  to  think 
about  something  else  while  he  is  talking,  and 
occasionally  say  "yes,"  "indeed?"  "strange, 
isn't  it?"  to  prevent  his  considering  too  cu- 
riously what  your  state  of  mind  may  be.  A 
certain  amount  of  accuracy  is  necessary  for 
the  conduct  of  life;  but  one  should  not  be 
too  eager  to  thrust  it  upon  others.  The 
truth  of  this  conclusion  is  always  especially 
apparent  to  me,  when  I've  gone  somewhere 
with  Miss  Bradford. 

It   was  near  sunset  when   we   began   our 
reconnaissance   of   the   walls,   and   before   us 


32  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

lay  the  long  mid-summer  twilight  of  the 
British  Isles.  There  was  a  slight  suggestion 
of  mist  in  the  air ;  but  armed  with  umbrellas, 
we  had  no  fears.  (Princess  and  I  had  one 
between  us;  for,  while  the  natives  in  most 
European  countries  travel  with  several  ap- 
parently superfluous  protections  from  sun 
and  rain,  besides  canes,  staffs  and  alpenstocks 
tied  up  in  sheaves,  we  limit  ourselves  strictly 
to  one  umbrella.  If,  by  chance,  we  start  out 
on  a  long  journey  with  two,  it  becomes  a 
point  of  honor  for  one  of  us  to  lose  hers  at 
the  earliest  opportunity,  while  it  is  a  misde- 
meanor for  the  other  to  call  attention  to  the 
loss.  This  duty  performed,  we  move  on  light- 
hearted  and  joyous  over  our  lessened  re- 
sponsibility.) 

We  walked  tranquilly  along  the  old  wall, 
stopping  often  to  enjoy  the  views  of  the  Dee, 
and  wonder  if  any  Mary  were  even  then 
"calling  the  cattle  home."  We  were  not 
simply  drinking  in  the  calm  beauty  of  the 
landscape,  we  were  steeping  our  very  souls 
in  it,  and  feeling  all  fret  and  strain  gradually 
relax  and  disappear  under  the  quiet  influ- 


IN  ENGLAND.  33 

ences  of  the  soft  evening  air,  and  the  green 
meadows  bound  together  by  the  silver  rib- 
bon of  the  stream.  The  mist  changed  to  a 
drizzle  and  the  drizzle  to  a  downpour,  but 
what  cared  we?  We  were  serenely  happy, 
quite  above  being  disturbed  by  any  such 
trifle  as  the  necessity  of  sending  jackets, 
skirts  and  shoes  to  the  kitchen  for  drying 
and  freshening. 

Even  Miss  Bradford  trudged  along  cheer- 
fully under  the  umbrella  that  Ned  held  over 
her  with  a  most  devoted  air,  while  Helen  fol- 
lowed them,  Princess  and  I  bringing  up  the 
rear.  The  aunt  forgot  even  her  fears  of 
rheumatism — usually  painfully  alive — under 
the  genial  influence  of  Ned's  attentions,  the 
jokes  that  swept  back  and  forth,  and  the 
laughter  rippling  about  her. 

Having  reveled  in  an  evening  on  the  walls, 
we  went  next  morning  for  our  first  peep  at 
the  cathedral.  We  always  enjoy  loafing 
about  a  beautiful  building,  going  back  time 
after  time  for  a  new  view  of  a  favorite  spot, 
gradually  becoming  acquainted,  and  making 

friends  with  the  place.    It  is  the  only  way  to 
3 


34  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

derive  real  satisfaction  from  a  great  piece  of 
architecture. 

Aside  from  its  richly-carved  choir  stalls, 
Chester  Cathedral  has  little  special  interest 
beyond  its  connection  with  Charles  Kingsley. 
Even  the  presence  of  the  arms  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales  (Earl  of  Chester)  and  two  old  flags 
which  touch  the  American  heart  because 
they  figured  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  can 
hardly  draw  our  thoughts  away  from  the 
good  muscular  Christian  who  was  once 
Canon  here,  and  who  would  deserve  to  be 
remembered  by  the  English-speaking  world, 
even  if  he  had  left  undone  some  of  his  other 
good  deeds,  and  merely  written  "Westward 
Ho"  and  "Water  Babies." 

The  coat  of  arms  brings  back  to  mind  the 
other  Lord  of  Chester,  the  Constable  Hugo, 
whom  Scott's  white  magic  has  recalled  from 
the  past  to  live  again  in  the  pages  of  "The 
Betrothed."  It  is  old-fashioned  to  admire 
Scott  now ;  moreover,  it  hath  been  said  by 
no  less  a  person  than  Mark  Twain  that  gentle 
Sir  Walter's  tales  of  chivalry  are  responsible 
for  the  blood  feuds  and  the  dueling  of  our 


IN  ENGLAND.  35 

border  States.  Yet  I  am  inclined  to  wonder, 
humbly,  and  with  due  deference  to  superior 
wisdom,  whether  the  minds  of  the  readers 
were  not  partly  responsible.  Boys  in  New 
England  and  the  Middle  States  read  the 
novels  and  the  poems  without  any  such  dire- 
ful results.  Possibly  there  is  truth  in  the 
remark  of  one  such  lad:  "Of  course,  a  man 
ought  to  be  careful  what  he  writes;  but, 
after  all,  you  know,  an  author  isn't  responsi- 
ble if  his  readers  are  fools." 

Perhaps,  "after  all,"  Mark  was  only  joking, 
and  is  not  responsible  if  some  of  his  learned 
reviewers  lack  a  sense  of  humor. 

We  had  a  little  discussion  on  this  subject 
as  we  stood  examining  the  coats  of  arms, 
Aunt  Minerva  inclining  to  the  great  humor- 
ist's view,  because  she  knows  some  men  in 
Cambridge  who  support  it;  but  Ned  said, 
turning  to  Princess  and  myself,  "The  Wav- 
erly  novels  never  hurt  us  any,  did  they?  Re- 
member how  we  used  to  play  'Ivanhoe'  in  the 
old  barn?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Princess ;  "Sir  Walter 
has  given  us  many  innocently  happy  hours, 


36  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

though  I  believe  Peregrina  has  never  been 
reconciled  because  you  boys  insisted  that  she 
should  be  Adela  Fitz  Urse  or  some  other  'fair 
ladye'  instead  of  putting  on  the  tin  armor 
and  figuring  as  a  knight." 

To  the  average  American  traveler  the 
most  attractive  parts  of  England  and  Scot- 
land are  those  spots  where  the  men  and 
women  of  Scott,  Shakespeare,  Dickens, 
Thackeray  and  George  Eliot  have  played 
their  parts  in  the  dramas  arranged  for  them 
by  their  creators.  Historians  and  antiqua- 
rians may  go  on  pointing  out  discrepancies 
and  anachronisms  to  the  end  of  time;  but 
the  men  and  women  we  know  and  love — or 
hate — are  the  Margaret  of  Anjou,  the  Con- 
stance, the  King  John,  the  Leicester,  the 
Richards  and  the  Henrys  of  the  two  great 
masters  of  wizardry,  Shakespeare  and  Scott. 
It  is  strange  that  any  one  can  praise  Shakes- 
peare and  decry  Scott,  when  it  is  so  plain  that 
Sir  Walter  is  an  earnest  and  loving  disciple 
of  King  William.  What  we  are  pleased  to 
call  history  is  frequently  one  man's  judg- 
ment, more  or  less  biased,  upon  the  facts  that 


IN  ENGLAND.  37 

he  has  been  able  to  collect.  Your  only  real 
history  is  found  in  the  letters,  the  documents, 
the  plays,  the  ballads — even  the  fiction — of 
the  time  considered;  and  these  speak  a  dif- 
ferent language  and  tell  a  different  story  to 
every  reader.  Facts  and  dates  we  may  col- 
lect, but  the  amount  of  real  history  that  we 
learn  depends  upon  our  human  quality,  our 
power  to  find  beneath  varying  customs  and 
costumes  the  essential  humanity  of  all  climes 
and  ages;  upon  our  realization  of  the  fact 
that  our  knowledge  of  others  is  only  what 

"We  dimly  guess,  deciphering  [ourselves]." 

Most  Cathedral  services  seem  bare  and 
inadequate,  an  impertinent  trifling  with  the 
solemnity  of  the  building,  a  feeble  effort  to 
call  the  thoughts  of  the  congregation  into  a 
fixed  channel  from  the  flights  through  space 
and  eternity  to  which  they  are  incited  by  the 
soaring  pillars  and  springing  arches.  To  sit 
in  a  great  cathedral  and  let  one's  soul  lie 
open  to  its  influences,  aided  by  the  roll  of  the 
organ,  and  perhaps  the  chanting  of  unseen 
choristers — if  it  be  very  good  and  not  too 


38  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

near — is  quite  enough.  Anything  else  breaks 
the  spell  by  a  touch  of  the  commonplace. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  when  a  person  has 
seen  one  cathedral  he  has  seen  them  all,  there 
is  no  need  of  visiting  others.  It  might  as 
well  be  said  that  when  he  has  seen  one  human 
being  he  doesn't  need  to  know  any  others. 
Every  cathedral  has  a  marked  individuality 
and  a  special  message  of  its  own.  Then,  too, 
people  have  a  foolish  habit  of  asking  you 
which  cathedral  you  like  best;  just  as  they 
ask  you,  with  equal  foolishness,  who  is  your 
favorite  author — as  if  it  could  be  the  same 
one  all  the  time. 

I  know  a  lady — a  good  Christian,  irre- 
proachable in  her  daily  walk  and  conversa- 
tion, a  model  wife  and  mother,  and  a  benedic- 
tion to  the  community  in  which  she  lives — 
who  avers  that  every  married  woman  should 
have  two  husbands;  one,  for  the  wear  and 
tear  of  every-day  life,  a  sheet  anchor  in  pe- 
riods of  stress  and  storm,  and  another,  for 
dress  rehearsals  and  social  functions,  who 
could,  between  times,  be  wrapped  up  in  pink 


IN  ENGLAND.  39 

cotton  and  camphor  gum  and  put  away  in 
the  china  closet. 

So  with  cathedrals,  no  one  can  give  his 
allegiance  to  one  for  all  time.  The  last  one 
is  almost  always  the  loveliest ;  yet,  when  one 
is  away  from  them  all,  it  is  delightful  to  re- 
view them  in  memory  and  find  in  each  some- 
thing to  fit  a  special  mood. 

This  makes  it  easy  to  understand  how  a 
man  can  fall  in  love  successively  with  several 
very  different  women.  In  truth,  I  myself 
have  fallen  in  love  with  a  great  many  men, 
as  different  as  Hector,  Prince  of  Troy,  Rod- 
erick Dhu,  and  John  Milton.  However,  as 
most  of  them  have  been  dead  several  cen- 
turies they  have  not  occasioned  me  much  loss 
of  sleep  or  many  flutterings  of  heart. 

After  wandering  about  the  queer  streets 
of  Chester,  looking  in  at  the  windows  of 
shops  in  the  Rows,  spending  a  disproportion- 
ate amount  of  money  on  prints  and  photo- 
graphs, lunching  on  thin  bread  and  butter, 
ham  and  strawberries  and  cream  at  a  dim 
old  restaurant,  it  is  well  to  stray  into  the 
half-ruined  church  of  St.  John,  there  to  re- 


40  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

turn  thanks  for  one's  many  mercies.  It  is  a 
pity  that  so  beautiful  a  building  should  be  in 
such  a  state,  yet  there  are  compensations; 
one's  imagination  may  run  riot  and  "restore," 
without  fear  of  criticism,  with  the  absolute 
certainty  that  one  person,  at  least,  will  be 
pleased  with  the  results. 

Like  all  Americans,  we  had  wondered  just 
how  much  meaning  there  really  was  in  the 
legend  so  common  all  over  the  United  King- 
dom, "Soapmakers  to  H.  R.  H.,  the  Princess 
of  Wales,"  "Hatters  to  H.  R.  H.,  the  Prince 
of  Wales,"  etc.,  etc.  Accordingly  one  day 
when  we  were  buying  chocolate  in  a  shop  in 
Chester  which  bore  the  inscription,  "Con- 
fectioners to  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen,"  Ned 
blandly  asked: 

"As  official  confectioners,  what  do  you 
supply  to  the  Queen?" 

The  trim  shop-girl  replied: 

"O,  when  there  is  a  royal  wedding,  we 
always  make  a  cake,  sir." 

A  few  weeks  later  we  came  upon  an  old 
copy  of  an  illustrated  London  paper,  which 
gave  an  account  of  the  wedding  of  some  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  41 

Queen  Victoria's  grandchildren;  and,  among 
other  interesting  objects  therein  portrayed, 
was  a  cake  that  suggested  the  tower  of  Pisa, 
except  that  its  position  was  vertical.  Below 
it  was  printed: 

"Wedding  cake  provided  by  Her  Majesty, 

ordered    from    B ,    her    confectioner    in 

Chester." 

So  we  had  settled  one  weighty  question. 
Ned  regrets  that,  on  account  of  difficulties  of 
transportation,  it  will  not  be  possible  for 

him  to  order  a  wedding  cake  from  B of 

Chester.  Princess  suggests  that  he  might 
come  to  Chester  to  be  married.  Ned  rather 
likes  that  idea,  and  thinks  he  may  do  it,  if 
the  other  person  concerned,  "when  found," 
is  willing. 

Of  course,  while  at  Chester,  we  made  a 
little  trip  to  Hawarden.  We  could  not  see  / 
the  interior  of  Gladstone's  home,  because 
Mrs.  Gladstone  was  then  occupying  the 
house;  but  we  wandered  about  the  noble 
park,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  white-haired 
lady  in  mourning  and  a  girl  walking  together 
in  the  formal  garden.  We  told  each  other 


42  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

that  they  must  be  Mrs.  Gladstone  and  Dor- 
othy Drew,  and  did  not  destroy  our  content- 
ment by  asking  unnecessary  questions  of  the 
gardener  or  the  man  who  was  mowing  in  the 
park. 

Hawarden  is,  like  all  English  villages  that 
I  know,  a  beautiful  place,  made  still  more  at- 
tractive by  the  public  spirit  and  kindly  con- 
sideration of  the  Prime  Minister  whose  home 
was  there  during  so  many  happy  years. 
What  place  among  statesmen  history  will 
finally  assign  to  William  Ewart  Gladstone, 
only  time  can  tell;  but  in  Hawarden,  his 
memory  will  always  be  fragrant  as  that  of  a 
devoted  husband  and  father,  a  kind  and 
thoughtful  neighbor,  an  upright  Christian 
gentleman. 

In  recording  our  happiness  at  Chester,  I 
must  not  fail  to  make  mention  of  our  inn.  It 
was,  of  course,  a  quiet  one,  whose  prices  were 
moderate.  It  was  exquisitely  neat;  hops 
climbed  up  over  poles  in  the  courtyard,  and 
palms  and  ferns  stood  about  in  unexpected 
corners. 

Our  room  had  beds  with  green  canopies, 


IN  ENGLAND.  43 

and  we  felt  sure  that  some  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's maids  of  honor  must  have  occupied 
them.  Helen  and  Miss  Bradford  had  crim- 
son canopies  over  their  beds,  and  Helen  ex- 
pressed her  conviction  that  King  Charles  and 
his  favorite  gentlemen-in-waiting  slept,  or  lay 
awake,  in  them  the  night  before  the  battle  of 
Rowton  Moor.  Whereupon,  Ned  not  to  be 
outdone,  remarked: 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  the  age  of 
the  furniture  in  your  rooms ;  but  mine  is  imi- 
tation antique,  made  in  Stamford,  Connecti- 
cut. I  hunted  up  the  maker's  label." 

The  dining-parlor  was  a  cozy  little  room, 
with  green-tinted  walls  adorned  with  pretty 
etchings  and  water  colors. 

The  maids  were  rosy  and  round  with  soft 
English  voices.  The  "Boots"  we  never  saw 
until  our  departure,  when  he  lined  up  with 
the  other  servants  to  receive  his  "tip;"  but 
he  spirited  away  our  shoes  at  mysterious 
hours  of  the  night;  and  in  the  morning 
dropped  them  before  our  doors  with  a  "heavy 
thump"  that  reminded  us  of  the  falling  ship- 
mates of  the  "Ancient  Mariner."  This  was, 


44  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

doubtless,  a  gentle  hint  that  even  royalty  and 
pilgrims  must  not  sleep  all  day,  when  there 
are  still  in  Chester  half-timbered  houses  un- 
visited  and  Cheshire  cheese  untasted. 

Princess  refused  the  cheese  point-blank,  at 
first  sight,  so  did  Helen;  Miss  Bradford 
and  I  thought  we  would  venture  upon  a  bit. 
Some  of  it  had  reached  a  green  old  age,  and 
other  some  was  hoary  with  unmeasured  an- 
tiquity. Truth  compels  me  to  state  that 
neither  Miss  Bradford,  with  all  her  respect 
for  ancient  lineage,  nor  myself,  usually  fond 
of  any  kind  of  cheese,  were  able  to  dispose 
of  the  portion  set  before  us.  Ned  ate  his  and 
mine  too,  and  pronounced  it  good.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  his  ability  to  do  the  proper 
thing  on  this  occasion  gave  him  added  im- 
portance in  Aunt  Minerva's  estimation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN   THE   LAKE   COUNTRY. 

On  our  departure  from  Chester  Ned  said 
good-bye  for  a  time,  as  he  had  business  in 
London.  However,  he  decided  to  join  us 
later  for  a  few  days'  stay  at  Warwick. 

Accordingly  we  four  women  started  by  our- 
selves to  visit  the  lake  country.  We  took  the 
"Prelude"  and  other  Wordsworthian  poems 
as  a  guide  book,  and  straying  northward 
from  Chester  went  first  to  Furness  Abbey. 

Available  information  about  this  ruin  is 
exceedingly  meager.  It  belonged  to  a 
brotherhood  of  Cistercian  monks,  at  first  call- 
ed the  grey,  afterward  the  white  brothers, 
and  was  built  as  early  as  the  twelfth  century. 
Only  the  walls  of  the  Abbey  church  and  the 
Chapter  House  are  preserved  with  any  ap- 
proach to  completeness;  yet,  from  the  scat- 
tered stones  and  crumbling  walls,  one  can  al- 
most erect  again  the  mass  of  buildings  a? 
they  were  in  the  days  of  their  prosperity, 


46  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

when  the  Abbot  of  Furness  in  the  Valley  of 
Deadly  Nightshade  was  a  mighty  man  in  the 
land;  when  in  the  scriptorium  learned  men 
copied  priceless  manuscripts ;  when  the  clois- 
tered brothers  gathered  daily  in  the  great  re- 
fectory and  heard  readings  from  lives  of  the 
saints  while  eating  their  noon-tide  meal; 
when  fasts  and  vigils  were  observed  in  chapel 
and  cells ;  when  causes  of  note  were  tried  in 
the  Chapter  House ;  when  processions  gay 
with  banners  swept  down  the  stately  nave 
and  pillared  aisles ;  when  lay  brothers  busied 
themselves  with  tending  flocks  and  herds, 
and  caring  for  forest,  meadow,  and  glebe- 
land  in  this  almost  royal  domain;  and  the 
white  monks  and  their  abbot  commanded 
respect  and  inspired  awe  in  all  the  country- 
side. 

It  is  strange  that  the  old  abbey  is  not  as 
rich  in  story  and  legend  as  in  ivy  and  roses; 
that  not  even  Scott  found  out  a  drama  of 
mediaeval  life  played  under  the  shadow  of 
the  once  stately  monastery.  But  so  it  is; 
this  monument  of  a  manner  of  life  and 
thought  now  dead  among  the  Anglo-Norman 


IN  ENGLAND.  47 

race,  lies  here  on  the  green  hillside,  deserted, 
silent,  just  a  little  sad,  but  beautiful  beyond 
all  words. 

After  our  half-day  among  the  ruins,  we 
were  most  prosaically  hungry;  accordingly, 
we  betook  ourselves  to  the  Abbey  Hotel; 
and,  in  its  sumptuous  parlor,  sat  down  for 
afternoon  tea.  We  felt  like  ladies  of  high 
degree  come  from  some  neighboring  castle, 
so  daintily  splendid  were  our  surroundings. 
When  the  bill  appeared,  we  were  sure  the 
proprietor  had  mistaken  us  for  some  such 
persons  of  quality.  However,  this  was  an 
unusual  extravagance;  and,  despite  our  mis- 
givings, we  agreed  that  we  had  received  our 
money's  worth. 

There  was,  to  begin  with,  the  parlor  itself ; 
the  tea,  bread-and-butter,  and  jam  were  all 
of  the  best ;  and  the  maid,  in  black  gown  and 
snowy  cap  and  apron,  was  a  picture,  with  her 
fluffy  golden  hair,  her  sapphire  eyes,  and 
cheeks  as  pink  as  her  ribbons.  She  looked 
like  the  confidential  serving-woman  of  a 
duchess,  and  tripped  about  the  parlor  as  if 
it  were  indeed  Her  Grace's  drawing-room. 


48  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

As  we  were  leaving,  I  asked  her  some  ques- 
tion abou,t  the  neighboring  ruin,  to  which 
she  replied,  with  an  injured  expression  in  her 
blue  orbs,  "Really,  mem,  I  don't  know." 

When  we  were  safely  outside,  Princess 
remonstrated. 

"You  should  know  better  than  to  ask  such 
questions  of  a  pink-and-white  butterfly. 
When  a  girl  is  as  satisfying  to  the  eye  as  that 
one,  she  fulfills  her  mission.  Nothing  further 
should  be  expected  of  her." 

"She  is  satisfying  to  the  ear,  also,"  I  re- 
torted. "I  wasn't  seeking  information,  I 
only  wanted  to  hear  her  speak,  whether  she 
said  anything  worth  hearing  or  not." 

The  moment  we  put  foot  upon  the  Cygnet 
at  Lakeside  for  the  trip  to  Bowness,  we  suc- 
cumbed to  the  attractions  of  the  Lake 
Country.  Three  of  us  did,  that  is;  Aunt 
Minerva  was  wretched  until  we  landed.  I 
believe  she  missed  Ned,  who  from  the  time 
he  was  presented  to  her  on  board  the  steamer 
until  he  put  us  into  our  compartment  in  a 
"carriage"  of  the  north-bound  train,  had 
compassed  the  good  lady  with  observances. 


IN  ENGLAND.  49 

This  rather  interfered  with  his  attentions  to 
Helen,  but  I  gathered  from  the  demure  smile 
with  which  she  watched  the  proceedings  that 
the  little  rogue  understood  our  cousin's  tac- 
tics as  well  as  if  he  had  explained  them  in  so 
many  words. 

It  was  evening  when  we  sailed  up  Winder- 
mere  to  Bowness;  the  lake  was  calm,  the 
moon  most  obligingly  present.  It  must  be 
said  that  during  this  particular  summer  the 
moon  behaved  as  she  does  in  a  German 
novel,  always  shining  when  her  light  was 
needed  for  spectacular  effect.  Things  are 
not  always  thus  arranged  in  real  life,  and  the 
moon  is  proverbially  untrustworthy;  but, 
during  this  season,  she  was  disposed  to  be 
gracious  and  always  appeared  when  desired. 

At  Ambleside,  we  seriously  considered  the 
question  of  selling  our  return  tickets,  buying 
a  lot,  and  building  thereon  a  cottage,  in  which 
to  end  our  days  in  retirement,  communing 
with  the  mighty  and  unconventional  souls 
that  have  made  the  region  a  goal  of  pilgrim- 
age. The  temptation  was  great,  and  the  re- 
flection that  necessity  required  our  return  to 
4 


50  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

the  work-a-day  world,  to  replenish  our 
pocket-books,  alone  deterred  us  from  carry- 
ing out  the  plan. 

In  these  days,  alas,  pilgrims  may  not  de- 
pend upon  the  charity  of  the  public,  said  pub- 
lic having  too  many  other  claims  upon  its 
resources,  and  pilgrims  of  modern  times 
being  beset  with  more  numerous,  complex, 
and  expensive  wants  than  those  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Moreover,  he,  or  she,  who  now-a-days 
striveth  to  go  a-pilgriming  in  the  good  old 
fashion  is  liable  to  arrest  and  other  unpleas- 
ant experiences;  to  be  called  unseemly 
names,  as  vagrant,  tramp,  or  hobo;  and  to 
hear  many  times  and  oft  lago's  advice  to 
Roderigo, 

"Put  money  in  thy  purse." 

Despite  these  discouraging  facts,  no  pil- 
grims of  any  time  ever  visited  the  shrines  of 
saint  and  martyr  with  more  diligence  and  de- 
votion than  we  gave  to  Harriet  Martineau's 
house  with  its  garden  and  sun-dial;  to  Gras- 
mere  and  Castle  Rigg  churches ;  to  Dove  and 
Nob  cottages  and  all  the  other  haunts  of 
Wordsworth,  De  Quincy  and  the  Coleridges. 


IN  ENGLAND.  51 

Such  delightful  walks  and  drives  as  we  had 
over  the  hilly  roads,  now  shaded  by  trees  in 
full  leaf;  now  bordered  by  fields  in  which 
grew,  rank  on  rank,  the  crimson  fox-glove, 
"like  regiments  of  soldiers,"  our  old  char- 
ioteer said ;  and  now  perfumed  by  the  breath 
of  wild  roses  or  spicy  bog-myrtle.  Shall  any 
of  us  ever  forget,  I  wonder,  our  first  glimpse 
of  Rydal  Water,  that  tiny  lake  with  wooded 
island,  which  somehow  looked  incongruously 
tropical,  and  awoke  memories  of  Robinson 
Crusoe  and  Paul  and  Virginia. 

A  photographer  at  Ambleside  told  us  that 
since  the  present-day  Wordsworths  have 
grown  well-to-do,  and  begun  to  shine  a  little 
in  the  glory  reflected  from  their  famous  kins- 
man, they  object  to  having  him  associated 
with  Dove  Cottage,  trying,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  emphasize  his  residence  at  Rydal 
Mount,  while  they  refuse  to  allow  the  public 
to  visit  this  later  home  of  the  poet.  But 
Stopford  Brooke  and  the  Wordsworth  so- 
ciety have  defeated  the  aims  of  the  snobbish 
relatives  and  are  making  Dove  Cottage  a 


52  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

fitting  memorial  of  the  poet,  his  wife,  and 
his  sister. 

Wordsworth  was  a  man  fortunate  in  his 
womankind.  Suppose  they  had  longed  for 
cities,  for  society,  bric-a-brac,  operas,  even 
for  ease  and  luxury  in  their  country  home, 
where  then  would  have  been  his  "sweet 
calm"  and  tranquil  content? 

I  left  Dove  Cottage  fully  resolved  that 
when  the  day  came  for  me  to  bid  farewell  to 
active  life,  I  would  retire  with  the  few  hun- 
dreds I  hope  to  have  saved  by  that  time,  to 
the  Adirondack  forest,,  or  some  lovely  nook 
in  the  woods  of  Wisconsin,  build  for  myself 
a  tiny  house  on  a  hillside,  so  that  I,  too, 
might  step  directly  into  the  garden  from  my 
second-floor  window;  that  I  would  line  the 
walls  with  book-cases  to  the  height  of  six 
feet;  hang  all  my  choicest  pictures,  framed 
and  unframed,  in  the  spaces  above ;  and  here 
in  communion  with  the  choice  spirits  of  the 
ages,  I  would  spend  my  last  days. 

"The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot," 

if  perchance  the  world  should  know  enough 


IN  ENGLAND.  S3 

about  me   to   make   forgetting  a   necessary 
process. 

I  confided  this  beautiful  project  to  my 
companions  one  evening  as  we  sat  on  the 
shore  of  Lake  Windermere;  but  I  met  with 
scant  encouragement. 

"What  will  you  do  about  mice,  in  a  house 
alone  by  yourself?"  queried  Helen,  who  had 
been  up  with  me  two  or  three  nights,  hunting 
imaginary  rodents. 

"Then,  you  know,"  added  the  Princess, 
"there  are  sometimes  bears  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  and  tramps  in  all  lonely  places,  besides 
you'd  have  nervous  prostration  by  the  time 
you'd  encountered  three  or  four  cows  in  your 
morning  rambles." 

So  I  shall  probably  not  carry  out  my  plan ; 
but  go  on  working  after  I  ought  to  stop,  in 
order  to  earn  money  to  spend  upon  things 
that  I  do  not  want,  but  which  civilized  hu- 
man beings  are  popularly  supposed  to  need. 

It  is  much  easier  for  a  man  to  live  in  this 
fashion  than  for  a  woman  to  do  so.  Even 
in  the  home  of  an  intellectual  hermit,  with 
artistic  tastes,  fires  must  be  built;  outside, 


54  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

paths   must   be   swept;    repairs,    taxes,   and 
other  things  of  that  nature  must  be  looked 
after.     All   things  considered,   I   fear   I   am 
not  perfectly  adapted  to  the  life  of  a  recluse. 
Other  kindly  spirits  besides  those  of  the 
Wordsworths  haunt  this  lovely  region.     De 
Quincey  came  a-visiting  and  remained  nine- 
teen years.    How  strange  it  is  that  he  should 
have  been  a  Briton — this  creature  of  Oriental 
brilliancy    of    imagination,    and    shy,    erratic 
manners.     But  his  was  a  time  when  unusual 
minds  and  characters  abounded.     Coleridge, 
a    towering    personality    despite    his    many 
weaknesses,    was   as    Orientally   magnificent 
in  his  imagination,  and,  to  put  it  mildly,  as 
unconventional     as     De     Quincey.      Keats, 
Byron,  and  Shelley,  though  not  associated 
with  them,  had  even  more  impatience  of  ac- 
cepted standards  than  Wordsworth  and  Cole- 
ridge.    It  was,  throughout  Europe,  an  un- 
easy age.     Southey  escaped   the   prevailing 
influence;    but  his  writings  are  as  tame  as 
his  opinions.    Doubtless,  he  was  a  more  com- 
fortable man  to  live  with  than  his  more  gifted 


IN  ENGLAND.  55 

neighbors;  and  the  world  is  richer  for  his 
honest,  cheerful,  laborious  life. 

One  must  wonder  at  times  if  the  Words- 
worth women  were  not  occasionally  con- 
scious of  a  pain  in  their  necks,  induced  by 
continuous  looking  up;  or  whether  they  re- 
laxed once  in  a  way  by  exchanging  glances  of 
sympathetic  understanding  over  the  idiosyn- 
cracies  of  William,  who  was,  after  all,  only  a 
man,  and  totally  devoid  of  humor.  The  world 
will  never  realize  how  much  quiet  satisfaction 
women  derive  from  that  sort  of  telegraphing 
to  each  other;  for  it  is  a  thing  no  mortal 
man  can  ever  appreciate. 

Over  at  Coniston,  lived  for  a  time  that 
most  idealistic  of  political  economists  and 
most  uncompromising  hater  of  shams,  John 
Ruskin.  This  home  of  his  meets  one's  sense 
of  the  fitness  of  things.  It  is  remote  enough 
and  beautiful  enough  to  satisfy  the  artistic, 
grumbling,  yet  essentially  kindly  critic  of  the 
human  race  and  its  works,  aesthetic  and 
otherwise.  So  here  he  sleeps  and  his  grave 
is  one  more  shrine,  visited  of  those  who  love 
whatsoever  is  pure,  true,  and  of  good  report 


56  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

At  Foxe  Howe,  between  Rydal  Water  and 
Ambleside,  is  the  home  of  by  no  means  the 
least  of  the  Lakeside  celebrities,  Dr.  Thomas 
Arnold.  The  house  and  its  surroundings  arc 
as  beautiful  as  everything  else  hereabouts, 
and  its  owner  was  an  entirely  worthy  inhab- 
itant. Beyond  this  praise  cannot  go.  A 
man  who  could  assume  the  leadership  of  a 
company  of  boys,  win  them  against  even 
their  prejudices  and  traditions,  not  merely  to 
an  acquiescence  in  his  plans  for  their  wel- 
fare, but  to  a  hearty  support  thereof;  a  man 
who  sent  up  to  the  universities,  year  after 
year,  boys  who  were  recognized  as  his  pupils 
because  of  their  uprightness  and  their  scorn 
of  trickery ;  such  a  man  has  lived  one  of  the 
grandest  of  poems. 

I  would  rather  have  been  Thomas  Arnold 
than  William  Wordsworth.  Possibly  there 
were  days,  when  things  went  badly  at  Rugby, 
when  boys  were  unreasonable,  lessons  badly 
prepared,  and  masters  irritable,  when  Dr. 
Arnold.  The  house  and  its  surroundings  are 
great  personality,  and  his  view  usually  the 
cheerful  one. 


IN  ENGLAND.  57 

It  is  good  for  the  visitor  to  the  Lake 
region  to  spend  considerable  time  in  the 
churches  of  Grasmere  and  Castle  Rigg.  Both 
are  so  quiet,  so  simple,  and  unpretending  that 
they  are  most  fitting  places  of  worship  for 
the  folk  of  the  countryside.  They  seem,  in  a 
way,  the  products  of  the  soil.  Yet,  with  all 
its  simplicity,  how  rich  is  the  churchyard  in 
its  possession  of  the  dust  of  Wordsworth, 
Hartley  Coleridge,  and  Arthur  Hugh 
Clough,  and  how  like  to  the  manly  poet  him- 
self is  sturdy  Grasmere  church;  while,  for 
days  after  we  had  visited  Castle  Rigg,  I 
caught  myself  from  time  to  time  repeating 
Canon  Rawnsley's  lines  on  the  little  build- 
ing which  is  such  a  quiet  ante-chapel  to  the 
purple-green  mountin  towering  above: 

"And  he  who  would  Helvellyn's  height  assay 

May  join  their  company  who  found 
Earth's  beauty,  made  Life's  inn  a  house  of  prayer, 
And  sped,  refreshed  of  soul,  upon  their  way." 

Keswick  is  the  most  disappointing  spot  in 
all  this  part  of  England.  Nothing  could  be 
more  attractive  than  its  surroundings,  but 


58 

the  town  itself  is  given  over  to  the  Philis- 
tines. 

If  one  could  find  a  whitewashed  cottage  in 
a  nook  of  hills  or  on  the  shores  of  Derwent-  „ 
water,  where  he  might  withdraw  from  the 
world  and  enjoy  the  beauties  of  sky,  moun- 
tain and  lake,  he  might  be  both  good  and 
happy.  But,  teased  by  the  continual  obtru- 
sion of  the  commonplace,  he  fails,  in  Kes- 
wick,  to  be  either  the  one  or  the  other. 

Failing  to  discover  the  desired  cottage,  we 
tarried  only  long  enough  for  a  pilgrimage  to 
Greta  Hall  and  Crossthwaite  Church,  and  a 
tour  of  the  lake.  I  had  always  desired  to  see 
"how  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore." 
What  there  is  of  it  comes  down  quite  rapidly, 
as  the  law  of  gravitation  is  not  suspended  in 
this  part  of  the  country;  but  I  shall  always 
have  a  grievance  against  Southey.  He  is 
less  accurate  in  his  descriptions  than  Words- 
worth, possibly  because  he  is  more  versifier 
and  less  poet.  Still,  the  "Falls  of  Lodore" 
and  the  "Journey  to  Moscow"  have  at  times 
given  me  much  joy;  so  the  grievance  may 
after  a  while  be  mitigated. 


IN  ENGLAND.  59 

After  our  tour  of  the  lake,  we  sighed 
more  than  ever  for  the  cottage;  and  Prin- 
cess, with  truly  regal  lawlessness,  even  sug- 
gested confiscating  one  or  two  whose  ex- 
teriors were  more  than  commonly  attractive. 
From  this  high-handed  proceeding,  we  were 
deterred  by  fear  of  a  collision  with  the  British 
Constitution.  This  alone  might  not  have 
sufficed,  unsupported  by  the  suspicion  that 
Uncle  Samuel's  government  might  not  in- 
cline to  intervene  and  save  us  from  the  re- 
sults of  following  our  royal  impulses. 

The  old  sexton  at  Crossthwaite  Church  is 
nearly  as  amusing  as  the  venerable  Mrs. 
Baker  who  used  to  pilot  visitors  through 

Anne  Hathaway's  cottage.     He  entertained 

^v 

us  hospitably  for  a  summer  afternoon.  We 
should  have  liked  to  bring  him  home  with 
us.  This  is  a  desire  not  often  produced  by 
the  conversation  of  custodians  of  churches; 
but  this  old  man  was  a  choice  specimen,  and 
we  made  much  of  him  accordingly.  May  he 
live  to  a  still  riper  old  age,  and  delight  many 
other  traveler's  by  the  sight  of  his  pictur- 


60  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

esquely   wrinkled   face   and   the   sound   and 
sense  of  his  quaint  observations. 

A  few  days'  sojourn  at  Keswick  brings  the 
reader  to  a  full  understanding  and  sympathy 
with  Wordsworth's  aversion  to  railroads. 
Natheless,  but  for  these  much  reviled  means 
of  travel,  pilgrims  without  overmuch  scrip  in 
their  purses,  might  be  forced  to  content 
themselves  with  knowing  the  lakes  of  Eng- 
land through  books  alone.  This  would  be 
a  hardship,  indeed,  for,  among  the  places 
that  are  quite  as  satisfactory  as  what  the 
poets  have  written  about  them,  the  Lake 
Country  holds  a  high  rank.  Is  that  because 
we  know  it  chiefly  through  the  poets?  The 
question  recalls  -Sir  Philip  Sydney's  state- 
ment that  "of  all  writers  under  the  sun,  the 
poet  is  least  liar.".) 

Possibly  it  is  not  the  railroads  themselves 
that  are  to  blame  for  the  conditions  com- 
plained of  at  Keswick,  but  the  desire  of  the 
average  man  to  turn  everything  to  what  he 
is  pleased  to  call  "practical"  uses.  Popular 
superstition  and  numerous  foreign  writers  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding,  this  is  not  an 


IN  ENGLAND.  61 

exclusively  American  trait.  Can  it  be  pos- 
sible that  in  us  it  is  merely  a  manifestation 
of  characteristics  derived  from  our  numerous 
lines  of  ancestry? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LICH  FIELD  AND  DR.  JOHNSON. 

From  Keswick,  Miss  Bradford  and  Helen 
decided  to  go  to  Scotland,  making  a  little 
journey  to  the  Burns  country,  the  Scottish 
lakes,  Edinburgh,  Melrose  and  Abbotsford. 
When  they  began  to  talk  of  this  plan,  Prin- 
cess and  I  wavered  a  little,  for  these  are 
places  dear  to  our  hearts ;  and  when  we  visit- 
ed them,  we  were  blessed  with  such  perfect 
weather  that  we  thought  all  the  brownies 
must  be  favorable  to  our  undertaking.  This 
pleasant  belief  lasted  until  we  reached  ^Ab- 
botsford^) when  the  drenching  rains  in  which 
we  made  our  pilgrimage  to  the  home  of  Scott, 
and  to  Dryburgh  and  Melrose  made  us  won- 
der in  what  way  we  could  have  offended  our 
guardian  spirits. 

However,  as  we  had  come  with  the  inten- 
tion of  devoting  the  summer  to  England,  we 
steeled  our  hearts  against  temptation,  and, 
turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  the  charmer, 


IN  ENGLAND.  63 

prepared  to  carry  out  our  original  plan  of 
going,  by  way  of  Lichfield,  to  Warwick, 
where  our  three  friends  were  to  rejoin  us. 

It  is  a  pleasant  experience  to  arrive  at 
Lichfield  on  the  afternoon  of  a  summer's 
day ;  to  eat  supper  in  the  dining-room  of  the 
Swan  Inn,  all  gay  and  sweet  with  roses,  then 
to  be  shown  to  a  chamber  opening  off  one  of 
the  winding  corridors ;  to  sit  by  the  open 
window  and  write  letters  and  dream  till  the 
long  twilight  darkens  into  night;  and,  at 
last,  to  climb  into  the  high,  canopied  bed, 
where  one  goes  to  sleep  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  the  sweet-toned  cathedral  chimes. 

Whoever  first  bestowed  upon  the  cathe- 
dral of  Lichfield  the  title  of  "Queen  of  the 
English  Cathedrals"  was  a  person  of  taste; 
and  he  who  gave  to  her  spires  the  name  of 
"Ladies  of  the  Vale"  was  a  poet.  Smaller 
than  almost  any  other  cathedral  on  the  island, 
less  imposing  in  its  position  than  most  of  the 
others,  yet,  in  the  perfect  harmony  of  its  pro- 
portions, the  delicate  grace  of  its  outlines, 
the  richness  of  its  carvings,  the  lofty  sweeps 
of  its  clustered  pillars,  and  the  spring  of  its 


64  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

vaulted  roof,  it  has  a  beauty  and  charm  un- 
surpassed even  by  York,  Lincoln,  or  Canter- 
bury. 

Princess  being  ill  on  one  day  of  our  stay 
here,  and  preferring  solitude  to  society,  I 
started  out  for  an  exploring  expedition  quite 
alone.  The  ten  o'clock  service  had  begun 
when  I  reached  the  Cathedral ;  it  was,  there- 
fore, too  late  for  any  overzealous  church- 
warden or  beadle  to  compel  me  to  sit  within 
the  choir  enclosure.  Accordingly,  I  took  a 
chair  near  the  door  and  soon  forgot  every- 
thing in  the  beauty  of  the  place.  As  before 
mentioned,^,!  find  a  cathedral  service  delight- 
ful when  I  am  not  obliged  to  pay  close  at- 
tention, j  On  this  morning,  the  roll  of  the 
organ,  the  occasional  sound  of  the  chimes, 
and  the  voices  of  unseen  singers  combined 
to  produce  an  effect  harmonious,  solemn,  and 
reverend. 

After  the  close  of  the  service,  I  moved  over 
toward  a  fine  window  in  the  north  aisle. 
Presently  there  came  sweeping  by  a  rosy- 
faced,  white-haired  clergyman  in  full  canon- 
icals. Seeing  me  by  the  window,  he  stopped, 


IN  ENGLAND.  65 

saying  in  a  rich,  cheerful  voice, 

"Ah !  that's  a  good  bit  of  glass.  We  have 
some  good  glass  here.  Our  best,  of  course, 
is  in  the  Lady  Chapel.  One  gentleman,  who 
knows  a  good  bit  about  glass,  says  it  is  the 
finest  in  the  world.  Of  course,"  smiling, 
"that  is  saying  a  great  deal ;  but  it  is  certain- 
ly among  the  finest.  Now  there,"  pointing 
to  a  window  farthest  east,  "is  some  abomi- 
nable stuff,  v  I  really  think  the  choristers 
should  be  allowed  to  take  a  shy  at  it."J 

I  "looked  at  the  window  and  quite  agreed 
with  the  reverend  gentleman  in  his  judgment. 
But  I  only  said: 

"No  doubt  they  would  appreciate  the  priv- 
ilege." 

His  words  recalled  the  fact  that  the  chor- 
isters, whose  voices,  soaring  among  the 
arches  of  the  roof,  had  suggested  thoughts 
of  cherubim  and  seraphim  before  the  Great 
White  Throne,  were  undoubtedly  very  hu- 
man, with  the  same  taste  for  "shying"  char- 
acteristic of  boys  who  never  wear  vestments. 
The  clergyman  smiled  back  at  me,  very 
much,  I  thought,  as  though  he  would  not  ob- 

5 


66  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ject  to  being  counted  in  with  the  choristers 
when  the  attack  on  the  obnoxious  window 
should  begin.  Then  he  told  me  about  a  visit 
Ruskin  had  paid  them,  shortly  after  the  Dean 
and  Chapter  and  other  persons  interested, 
had  put,  near  the  entrance  to  the  Chapter 
House,  a  memorial  window  to  an  old  verger 
who  had  recently  died  after  an  unbroken 
term  of  service  of  forty  years  and  more. 
Ruskin,  wandering  about  the  Cathedral,  came 
upon  this  window;  and,  stopping  before  it, 
said  heartily, 
—  "Ah !  there's  a  good  bit  of  old  glass."_ 

After  telling  this  story,  over  which  he  and 
his  colleagues  had  evidently  been  rejoicing 
ever  since  the  great  man's  visit,  the  friendly 
clergyman  wished  me  a  pleasant  stay  in 
Kichfield;  and,  bowing  in  courteous  wise, 
swept  on. 

This  little  incident  made  me  feel  quite  at 
home  in  the  building ;  very  much,  I  imagine, 
as  one  would  feel  after  receiving  the  freedom 
of  a  city  in  a  gold  box.  Still  I  could  not  help 
wondering  a  little  how  this  benevolent  eccle- 
siastic happened  to  speak  to  me.  Yet,  re- 


IN  ENGLAND.  67 

membering  how  railroad  officials  and  police- 
men everywhere  seem  burdened  with  respon- 
sibility about  me,  though  I  rarely  ask  them 
questions;  and  how  people  in  general  are 
possessed  with  an  eager  desire  to  bestow  ad- 
vice upon  me,  I  decided  that  his  behavior  was 
not  so  strange,  after  all.  Besides,  the  canon, 
prebendary,  or  whatever  he  was,  seemed  fond 
of  his  cathedral,  and  was  perhaps  unwilling 
that  even  one  stray  American  should  over- 
look a  pane  of  its  exquisite  glass.  Indeed, 
every  one  in  the  diocese  may  justly  be  proud 
of  the  windows,  some  of  the  newer  ones,  even, 
having  a  beauty  of  outline,  a  softness  and 
richness  of  tone  and  coloring  that  rival  the 
best  of  the  old  specimens. 

Johnson  is  everywhere  in  the  atmosphere 
of  Lichfield.  On  the  wall  of  the  south  aisle 
of  the  Cathedral  is  a  medallion  to  his  mem- 
ory, side  by  side  with  another  to  his  pupil  and 
comrade,  Garrick. 

For  a  little  time,  however,  the  memory  of 
the  eighteenth  century's  Dictator  of  Letters 
is  eclipsed  by  the  interest  that  every  one 
must  feel  in  Chantry's  statue  of  "The  Sleep- 


68  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ing  Children."  Carved  in  creamy  marble,  to 
which  the  softened  light  from  the  windows 
gives  a  rosy  tinge,  lie  the  figures  of  two  girls 
asleep  in  each  other's  arms.  One  is  possibly 
fifteen  years  of  age;  the  other,  about  seven 
years  younger.  They  are  in  the  bloom  of 
health,  and  full  of  the  elastic  grace  of  youth. 
So  easy  and  natural  are  the  positions  that  it 
is  difficult  to  realize  that  a  touch  or  a  word 
will  not  awaken  the  sleepers. 

Out  in  the  market  place  stands  the  colossal 
statue  of  Dr.  Johnson.  It  does  not,  despite 
its  size,  seem  pretentious.  It  is  fitting  that 
everything  connected  with  this  man  should 
be  on  a  grand  scale.  He  dominates  his  na- 
tive town  to  this  day  as  he  dominated  his 
own  time,  poor,  homely,  awkward,  yet  a 
king  by  right  divine,  and  by  the  true  royalty 
of  mind  and  character. 

Here  are  the  house  where  Johnson  was 
born,  the  walks  he  took,  the  haunts  he  loved, 
the  final  resting-place  of  his  parents.  Even 
Uttoxeter,  the  thriving  market-town  of  the 
vicinity  in  his  boyhood,  is  now  remembered 
because  of  the  penance  to  which  Johnson,  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  69 

scholar  subjected  himself  because  of  the  sin 
of  omission  of  Samuel,  the  disobedient  son. 

Johnson  is  admirable  for  his  force  of  in- 
tellect and  character,  but  he  is  lovable  for  the 
tenderness  of  heart  that  such  self-discipline 
reveals.  It  speaks  well,  too,  for  the  father 
that  such  a  son  should  have  so  revered  his 
memory  and  so  atoned  for  a  lack  of  filial  obe- 
dience. 

The  old  church  on  the  hill,  under  the  shade 
of  the  solemn  yews,  where  Johnson's  parents 
lie  buried,  is  an  attractive  spot  for  quiet  medi- 
tation. The  path  that  leads  to  it,  along  quiet 
country  roads  bordered  by  hedge-rows,  is  an 
allurement  in  itself;  and  the  lanes  and  paths 
across  the  fields  that  bring  one  back,  by  way 
of  St.  Chad's  church  and  well,  to  the  rear 
of  the  Cathedral  close,  would  be  irresistible 
to  a  person  who  is  not  afraid  of  cows. 

The  presence  of  cows,  in  force,  in  the  fields 
through  which  so  many  charming  pathways 
lead  to  most  desirable  places,  is  the  chiet 
drawback  to  pedestrian  explorations  in  Eng- 
land. When  I  have  been  beguiled,  persuad- 
ed, or  driven  into  crossing  one  of  those  fields 


70  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

on  foot,  the  beauty  of  the  landscape  is  spoil- 
ed by  my  agonies  of  fear,  and  I  cry  out  with 
the  Psalmist, 

"Strong  bulls  of  Bashan  have  compassed 
me  around." 

Princess  always  declares  that  the  cattle  in 
the  fields  are  mere  harmless  bossies,  else  they 
would  not  be  there;  a  statement  which  cer- 
tainly looks  reasonable.  But  that  makes  no 
difference  to  me;  on  this  subject,  as  on  one 
or  two  others,  I  am  not  amenable  to  reason. 

The  cows  were  the  sole  blots  on  the  land- 
scape in  Litchfield,  but  they  were  numerous. 
Nevertheless,  I  should  be  willing  to  endure 
the  torture  again  for  the  sake  of  the  joy. 
Having  said  this,  I  refrain  from  the  use  of 
superlatives. 

There  are  other  things  besides  the  John- 
son relics  and  memorials  that  combine  to  give 
Lichfield  an  antique  flavor.  Indeed,  many  of 
the  houses  and  streets  are  far  older  than 
Johnson's  time,  and  might,  could  they  speak, 
tell  tales  of  the  hiding  of  St.  Chad's  bones; 
the  conference  of  Stanley  and  Richmond  on 
the  eve  of  Bosworth  field;  and  the  siege  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  71 

the  town  by  the  man  whom  Scott,  following 
a  local  historian,  calls  "The  fanatic  Brook." 

Here  is  the  George  Inn,  the  scene  of  Far- 
quhar's  comedy,  "The  Beaux  Stratagem,"  for 
which  the  rooms  of  the  old  inn  would  even 
now  afford  a  fairly  adequate  setting. 

Unless  one  looks  toward  the  railway  sta- 
tion at  the  far  end  of  the  town,  he  may  quite 
easily  believe  himself  a  contemporary  of 
Johnson,  Garrick,  Sheridan,  Burke,  and  the 
rest  of  the  company  who  absorbed  so  much 
tea — and  other  liquids — at  various  inns  and 
ale  houses,  besides  what  was  provided  them 
in  Mrs.  Thrale's  parlors  and  ordered  by  them 
in  their  own  lodgings.  Yet,  for  the  most 
part,  they  laid  about  them  right  lustily  and 
smote  many 

"Gorgons,  and  Hydras,  and  Chimaeras  dire," 

the  moral  and  social  evils  that  beset 
their  time.  They  were  not  over-dainty;  not 
always  refined,  according  to  our  standards; 
their  dress  left  much  to  be  desired  in  neat- 
ness, and  their  manners  in  gentleness;  but 
they  were  sturdy  men,  of  the  sound-hearted 


72  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

middle  class,  and  they  left  the  World  better 
than  they  found  it.  Who  of  us  can  lay  claim 
to  higher  praises? 

When  one  calls  up  the  group  in  some  one 
or  other  of  their  favorite  haunts,  and  sees  a 
canny  Scott  among  these  burly  Englishmen 
and  witty  Irishmen,  one  asks  himself,  how 
this  man  happens  to  have  strayed  into  this 
particular  company.  But,  in  time,  one  realizes 
that  the  Scot  believes  he  has  a  mission,  he 
was  born  to  chronicle  the  sayings  and  doings 
of  a  greater  than  himself;  and  he  proves  his 
faith  by  his  works,  the  result  being  that  we 
read  with  eagerness  Boswell's  story  of  John- 
son's life,  and  neglect  the  ponderous  works 
which  the  Doctor  himself  produced  so  con- 
scientiously, and  which  colored  the  writings 
of  nearly  every  other  man  of  his  time  who 
wrote  in  English  on  either  side  of  the  At- 
lantic. We  find  the  true  Johnsonian  flavor, 
not  only  in  the  writings  and  speeches  of 
Burke  and  his  colleagues  in  Parliament  and 
Ministry,  but  in  the  debates  of  the  Continent- 
al Congress  and  the  State  papers  of  George 
Washington.  King  George  might  be  flouted 


IN  ENGLAND.  73 

by  his  disaffected  colonies ;  but  King  Samuel, 
despite  his  Toryism,  was  consciously  or  un- 
consciously admired  and  imitated  in  Massa- 
chusetts and  Virginia. 


CHAPTER  V. 
IN  SHAKESPEARE'S  COUNTRY. 

We  resolved  not  to  hasten  through  the 
Warwickshire  district,  but  to  take  plenty  of 
time  to  see  all  the  interesting  spots  in  the 
country  of  Shakespeare  and  George  Eliot. 

Accordingly,  we  settled  ourselves  at  "The 
Dale,"  a  quiet  inn  at  Warwick,  and,  with  this 
as  a  base  of  supplies,  made  raids  into  the  sur- 
rounding region.  We  loitered  about  the 
quaint  old  town;  ate  luncheons  and  teas  in 
queer  little  restaurants;  visited  the  Castle, 
the  churches,  and  Leicester's  hospital ;  traced 
out  the  line  of  the  old  wall ;  made  excursions 
on  foot,  by  tram  or  by  rail,  to  Leamington, 
Stratford,  Coventry,  Kenilworth,  and  Rugby ; 
and  were  quite  sure  all  the  time  that  no  one 
had  ever  enjoyed  Warwickshire  as  we  were 
enjoying  it.  It  is  much  to  know  one's  bless- 
ings ere  they  take  their  flight. 

Warwick  is  a  bit  of  the  sixteenth  century 
surviving  through  three  hundred  years  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  75 

change.  When,  on  coming  from  the  station, 
one  has  passed  the  East  Gate,  with  its  tiny 
chapel  atop,  it  is  necessary  to  revise  one's 
systems  of  measurement,  and  standards  of 
estimate.  The  long  street  that  winds,  bor- 
dered by  fragrant  lime-trees,  from  the  East 
Gate  of  Warwick  to  smart,  pretentious,  yet 
beautiful,  Leamington,  is  trying  very  hard  to 
shake  off  its  Elizabethan  trappings  and  be- 
come truly  modern.  One  kindly  man,  a  coun- 
cillor and  merchant  of  the  town,  said,  with  a 
smile  dimpling  his  rosy  old  face, 

"H'an  h'artist  told  me  once  that  h'every 
corner  in  Warwick  was  a  picture ;  an'  'e  rated 
me  soundly  for  tearin'  down  my  three  'un- 
dred  years  h'old  shop  h'and  buildin'  a  new 
one  with  plate-glass  windows.  But  h'lm  no 
h'artist;  these  picturesque  h'old  'aouses  is 
dark  an'  stuffy ;  h'and  h'l  don't  see  h'as  well 
h'as  h'l  did  once;  so,  in  my  h'old  h'age,  I 
want  more  h'air  h'and  light." 

Thus  it  will  doubtless  come  to  pass  in  time, 
that  most  of  the  old  houses  will  disappear; 
and  Warwick  will  become  modern,  hygienic, 
and — no,  it  can  never  be  ugly.  Meanwhile, 


;6  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

we  are  glad  to  have  anticipated  the  arrival  of 
progress. 

The  old  home  of  Walter  Savage  Landor, 
just  outside  the  city  wall,  is  now  used  for  the 
Girls'  High  School.  With  difficulty,  we  gain- 
ed admission  to  this  seat  of  learning.  We 
were  given  chairs  in  the  office  of  the  Head 
Mistress,  and  requested  to  wait  until  the  close 
of  a  recitation  that  she  was  conducting,  when 
she  would  "be  very  pleased"  to  show  us  the 
school.  So  we  waited  patiently,  like  Mary's 
little  lamb,  until  the  lady,  young,  capable, 
alert,  appeared.  She  greeted  us  doubtfully, 
and  then  offered  to  conduct  us  through  the 
building. 

We  followed  her  from  room  to  room,  and 
saw  girls  of  all  sizes,  from  the  class  prepar- 
ing for  University  examinations  to  the  so- 
called  Kintergarten.  When  the  door  into 
a  given  room  was  opened  and  we  were  ush- 
ered in,  all  activity  was  suspended ;  the  Head 
Mistress  inquired  what  work  was  in  progress, 
and  was  answered  "Botany,"  "Algebra,"  or 
"Numbers,"  as  the  case  might  be ;  we  gazed 
for  a  moment  and  then  moved  solemnly  on. 


IN  ENGLAND.  77 

We  were  shown  the  school  hall ;  the  cloak- 
rooms, occupying  the  interior  of  the  quaint 
Elizabethan  house  between  the  Landor  house 
and  the  city  gate ;  the  gardens,  and  the  tennis 
grounds;  but  not  one  syllable  of  recitation 
did  we  hear. 

The  teachers,  like  the  Head  Mistress,  ap- 
peared alert  and  intelligent;  the  girls  were 
the  usual  type  of  well-fed,  slow-moving  Eng- 
lish maidens,  with  heavy  masses  of  hair  fall- 
ing over  their  shoulders.  The  children  point- 
ed out  as  making  up  the  Kindergarten  class 
were  much  older  than  those  found  in  Ameri- 
can Kindergartens;  and  seated  at  ordinary 
desks,  were  busy  with  books  and  slates  as 
though  they  had  been  in  school  for  three  or 
four  years. 

All  the  girls  looked  contented  and  healthy, 
but  we  had  no  means  of  determining  their 
intellectual  status,  and  we  went  away  wonder- 
ing why  those  large  infants  were  supposed 
to  make  up  a  Kindergarten,  and  why  a  school 
of  so  many  grades  should  be  called  a  High 
School. 

Later  on,  in  London,  we  visited  a  so-called 


78  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

college  which  numbered  among  its  pupils 
boys  and  girls  of  all  ages,  from  tiny  tots  just 
beginning  to  read,  to  tall  lads  choosing  be- 
tween Cambridge  and  Oxford.  It  was  sim- 
ply a  very  good  private  school;  and  we  de- 
cided that  the  word  college  must  be  as  elastic 
in  England  as  it  is  said  to  be  in  our  own 
country. 

We  decided  to  make  a  visit  to  Coventry  be- 
fore the  others  came;  because,  as  Princess 
remarked,  "If  it's  half  as  interesting  as  I'm 
prepared  to  find  it,  we  shall  wish  to  go  more 
than  once,  and  can  run  over  with  the  others 
when  they  come." 

Princess  was  not  disappointed  in  Coven- 
try, whcih  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
towns  in  the  kingdom.  London  is  the  im- 
perial city;  Bristol,  the  Queen  City;  and 
Coventry,  the  Prince's  Chamber.  Since  Ed- 
ward, the  Black  Prince,  every  Prince  of 
Wales  has  been  feasted  in  the  Guild  Hall,  and 
otherwise  entertained  by  the  Mayor  and  Cor- 
poration, a  fact  on  which  the  inhabitants  of 
Coventry  plume  themselves  not  a  little. 

We  spent  a  long  delightful  day  at  Coven- 


IN  ENGLAND.  79 

try;  and,  later,  repeated  the  visit;  but  the 
first  day  was  so  full  of  pleasant  experiences 
that  it  deserves  to  be  considered  by  itself. 
It  was  a  little  incongruous  to  ride  atop  of  an 
electric  tram  up  the  long,  crooked  street,  and 
see  the  effigy  of  Peeping  Tom  looking  down 
upon  this  modern  means  of  conveyance  in  the 
same  indifferent  manner  that  he  has  looked 
upon  everything  else  in  this  street  for  several 
centuries  past;  and  will,  we  trust,  for  cen- 
turies to  come. 

Our  first  shrine  was  the  church  of  St. 
Michael,  which  has  one  of  the  "three  spires 
of  Coventry."  This  proved  to  be  a  most  for- 
tunate choice;  for  here  we  met  with  the  re- 
ward of  disinterested  merit.  Virtue  may  be 
its  own  reward,  but  there  are  others  that 
blend  with  it  harmoniously.  Our  good  for- 
tune came  in  this  wise.  We  had  gone  to  St. 
Michael's  partly  because  we  were  attracted 
by  the  beauty  of  its  spire,  partly  because  of 
its  connection  with  the  old  Mystery  Plays. 
We  were  trying  to  revive  for  ourselves  some 
old  spectacle  of  bygone  days,  punctuating 
our  more  connected  remarks  with  ejacula- 


8o  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

tions  on  the  beauty  of  the  warm,  brilliant,  yet 
softened  light,  that  poured  through  the  win- 
dows, when  our  raptures  were  overheard  by 
one  of  the  church  wardens  to  whom  they 
seemed  very  satisfactory.  Accordingly,  he 
begged  permission  to  show  us  some  better 
points  of  view,  whence  we  might  enjoy  still 
more  the  mellow  glory  of  the  golden  light. 

This  done,  the  good  gentleman  must  show 
us  the  Guild  Hall,  a  necessity  to  which  we 
readily  submitted.  We  found  the  Hall  most 
attractive.  There  was  an  immense  banquet 
room,  ovens  that  looked  as  if  they  might  be 
used  for  roasting  elephants,  historical  por- 
traits, tapestry,  and  a  painting  and  a  statue  of 
the  obedient,  but  determined,  Lady  Godiva. 
Was  it  not  that  tyrannical  old  husband  of 
hers  who  was  the  only  person  besides  the  king 
to  see  the  angel  who  came  to  give  to  Edward 
the  Confessor  the  divine  directions  as  to  the 
building  of  Westminster  Abbey.  Just  why 
such  a  grumpy  individual  should  have  been  so 
favored,  it  is  hard  to  understand.  Possibly 
he  was  possessed  of  virtues  not  mentioned  by 
the  chroniclers. 


IN  ENGLAND.  81 

As  we  came  out  of  the  Guild  Hall  our  at- 
tention was  called  to  an  old  house  hard  by, 
whose  age-blackened  timbers  showed,  here 
and  there  among  the  carven  grape-vines,  the 
familiar  Tudor  rose. 

"That,"  said  our  unknown  benefactor,  "was, 
in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  favorite  rallying- 
place  of  the  Lancastrians  of  these  parts ;  for, 
you  must  know,  Coventry  has  always  been 
strongly  Lancastrian;  it  was  here  that  Henry 
VII  held  court  for  a  short  time  after  the 
battle  of  Bosworth  Field  had  made  him  King 
of  England." 

We  lent  attentive  ears  to  this  discourse; 
because  all  disciples  of  Shakespeare  are  per- 
force Lancastrians,  especially  while  they  are 
in  Will's  own  country. 

Margaret  of  Anjou  was  received  here  after 
her  defeat  at  Tewksbury ;  and  one  hears  more 
kindly  mention  of  the  fiery  queen  in  Coven- 
try than  elsewhere  in  England.  Did  Coven- 
try love  Margaret  because  of  what  the  city 
did  for  the  queen,  or  because  she,  harassed, 
insulted,  and  defied  elsewhere,  here  given  re- 
fuge and  comfort,  relaxed  somewhat  of  her 


82  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

haughty  pride,  and  showed  herself  what,  de- 
spite her  faults,  she  undoubtedly  was  when 
she  chose  to  be,  a  charming  woman,  loyal  to 
the  rights  of  her  family;  driven  to  play  the 
man's  part  by  the  inefficiency  of  her  father, 
the  indecision  of  her  husband,  the  youth  of 
her  son? 

Much  of  Margaret's  fierceness  was  doubt- 
less due  to  her  being  placed  in  a  false  posi- 
tion. She,  a  princess,  the  heroine  of  trouba- 
dours and  minstrels,  the  star  of  the  court  of 
Provence,  had  married  a  king  and  was  en- 
titled to  the  privileges  and  immunities  of 
royalty;  but  she  was  driven  by  stress  of  cir- 
cumstances to  adopt  the  role  of  a  leader  of 
armies  and  a  ruler  of  men,  a  role  for  which, 
half-consciously  only,  she  felt  herself  unfit- 
ted; hence  her  irritability,  her  outbursts  of 
rage,  her  harshness  and  arrogance. 

This  old  house  before  which  we  paused  to 
listen  and  admire,  deserves  the  commenda- 
tion that  some  appreciative  person  has  be- 
stowed upon  Ford's  hospital  for  old  women 
in  a  narrow  street  hard  by: 

"It  is  perfect  of  its  kind,  and  ought  to  be 
kept  under  a  glass  case." 


IN  ENGLAND.  83 

In  that  charmed  half-day,  our  guide  went 
with  us  from  one  delightful  nook  of  old  Cov- 
entry to  another  fascinating  spot.  He  showed 
us  the  route  of  the  long-maintained  annual 
procession  in  honor  of  Lady  Godiva,  starting 
from  the  Guild  Hall  and  winding  through  the 
most  ancient  of  the  crooked  streets.  He  re- 
marked casually  of  one  street  that  it  was 
''quite  modern,  only  about  six  hundred  years 
old,  in  fact." 

He  also  told  us  that  the  effigy  of  Peeping 
Tom,  is  in  reality  an  ancient  wooden  statue  of 
St.  George,  unearthed  once  upon  a  time  dur- 
ing some  "restorations,"  and  changed  as  to 
name,  because  Peeping  Tom  was  locally  more 
interesting  (and  profitable)  than  the  hero  of 
the  dragon-legend.  The  change  is  of  no  par- 
ticular consequence,  the  average  visitor  is 
not,  as  a  rule,  too  familiar  with  the  features  of 
either  the  saint  or  the  sinner  in  question ;  and 
the  wooden  image  serves  very  well  to  mark 
the  spot  where  the  Tom  of  tradition  is  said 
to  have  met  the  punishment  due  his  imperti- 
nent curiosity. 

Singular,  is  it  not,  that  a  man  should  be 


84  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

held  up  to  obloquy  for  nigh  a  thousand  years 
for  giving  way  to  his  curiosity,  a  weakness 
popularly  supposed  to  belong  exclusively  to 
women?  Undoubtedly  this  is  a  triumph  of 
true  psychology  over  age-old  misrepresenta- 
tion. 

As  we  walked  down  the  street  leading  to 
St.  Mary's  church,  built  by  Isabella,  "the  she- 
wolf  of  France,"  to  expiate  the  murder  of  Ed- 
ward II,  our  guide  pointed  out  to  us  the 
Bull's  Head  Inn,  where  Mary  Stuart  was 
twice  imprisoned.  Every  place  gains  an  add- 
ed interest  from  even  a  slight  connection 
with  the  unfortunate  princess  who  possessed 
such  power  for  good  and  evil  and  such  un- 
failing charm. 

It  is  reported  that  when  Mary  was  sent 
hither,  her  royal  cousin  sent  with  her  the 
message : 

"Keep  her  straitly;  and  let  no  man  have 
speech  with  her,  lest  she  undo  him." 

The  words  are  characteristic,  and  show 
Elizabeth's  perfect  understanding  of  the  sit- 
uation. 

Nearly  opposite  the  Bull's  Head  stands  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  85 

oldest  Independent  church  now  remaining 
in  England. 

Others  were  built  before  this  one,  but  it 
has  defied  the  passage  of  time  and  the  changes 
in  creed  and  sentiment  for  nearly  three  cen- 
turies. It  is  a  plain,  rather  ugly  building, 
with  none  of  the  quaintness  that  characterizes 
most  of  its  neighbors ;  yet  it  has  a  certain  dig- 
nity and  interest  because  of  the  mighty  cur- 
rent of  thought  and  action  whose  humble  be- 
ginnings it  commemorates. 

Down  a  narrow  street,  branching  off  near 
the  church,  stands  the  more  than  modest 
house  in  which  Ellen  Terry  first  opened  her 
eyes  upon  this  world's  stage.  The  company 
to  which  her  parents  belonged — for  she 
comes  to  her  art  by  right  of  inheritance- 
was  playing  in  Coventry  when  she  was  born ; 
and  so  the  town  adds  one  more  item  to  its  list 
of  claims  upon  the  attention  of  the  traveler. 

At  last,  at  the  far  end  of  the  rambling 
street,  we  came  to  St.  Mary's  Church,  a  build- 
ing which  enjoys  the  distinction  of  having  all 
its  walls  slightly  out  of  plumb  and  of  being, 
in  consequence,  entirely  guiltless  of  right  an- 


86  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

gles.  In  the  chapel  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
masses  were  said  during  three  hundred  years 
for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  Edward  II,  the 
said  masses  being  paid  for  out  of  a  fund  pro- 
vided by  his  widow,  who  had  been  the  chief 
agent  in  procuring  his  premature  departure 
from  this  earthly  life. 

Isabella  behaved  handsomely,  according  to 
her  light;  she  had  removed  a  superfluous  hus- 
band from  her  own  path,  thereby  depriving 
him  of  an  earthly  crown  and  kingdom;  but 
she  did  her  best,  as  she  thought,  to  secure 
for  him  an  abundant  entrance  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  There  were  conveni- 
ences about  the  beliefs  of  those  days,  afford- 
ing pleasant,  and  apparently  safe,  by-paths 
to  the  accomplishment  of  one's  desires,  even 
when  these  were  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
restraints  imposed  by  the  Decalogue,  and  the 
law  of  the  land. 

The  benevolent  churchwarden  who  spent 
the  forenoon  in  helping  us  to  find  the  antiqui- 
ties of  the  town,  and  whom  we  had  begun  to 
suspect  of  being  an  incarnation  of  the  tutelary 
deity  of  the  city,  was,  we  learned  later  in  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  87 

day,  an  archaeologist  of  note,  and  an  F.  R.  S. 
Shortly  before  our  visit,  he  had  shown  to  that 
very  fortunate  man,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  all 
the  sights  of  Coventry.  This  information 
was  a  trifle  overwhelming,  at  first ;  but  then, 
I  reflected,  I  was  traveling  with  a  Princess, 
entitled  to  all  the  royal  honors ;  besides,  I 
don't  believe  H.  R.  H.  enjoyed  it  a  bit  more, 
if  as  much,  as  we  pilgrims  from  "a  ferre  coun- 
tree." 

The  good  gentleman  rounded  out  his  half- 
day's  work  by  directing  us  to  a  most  excellent 
inn  for  our  luncheon;  this  last  kind  deed 
showed  that  his  mind  was  not  entirely  absorb- 
ed by  the  middle  ages. 

Having  saturated  ourselves  with  Old  Cov- 
entry in  the  forenoon,  we  decided  to  devote 
the  afternoon  to  seeking  out  all  possible 
traces  of  George  Eliot.  Accordingly,  we  took 
a  tram,  in  hope  of  finding  Rose  Hill  Cottage, 
the  home  of  the  Brays.  When  the  guard 
came  to  collect  our  fares,  we  told  him  where  ', 
we  wished  to  go,  in  order  that  he  might  tell 
us  how  much  to  pay.  He  shook  his  head  in 


88  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

bewilderment,  he  knew  no  such  place.  Prin- 
cess and  I  glanced  at  each  other,  wondering 
what  to  do;  whereupon,  a  gentleman  across 
the  aisle  said: 

"Collect  the  same  fare  from  the  ladies  as 
from  me;  Rose  Hill  Cottage  is  across  the 
way  from  my  house;  I'll  show  them  how  to 
find  it." 

Good  fortune  still  attended  us,  then.  We 
settled  back  upon  the  bench,  and  looked  with 
interest  at  the  villas  that  we  were  passing. 

At  length  the  tram  stopped;  the  guard 
signed  us  to  alight;  we  obeyed  orders,  and 
the  gentleman  who  had  come  to  our  rescue 
stood  awaiting  us.  He  said,  smilingly,  "This 
way  ladies,  it  is  only  a  step." 

We  followed  him  along  the  shaded  road, 
until  stopping  at  a  gate  opening  into  a  little 
park,  he  said,  indicating  a  house  opposite : 

"There  it  is,  the  white  cottage  with  the 
high  fence,  and  trees  all  about." 

We  expressed  our  hearty  thanks,  and 
crossed  the  street.  We  peered  through  the 
palings  ;  we  stood  on  tiptoe  and  looked  over 
the  fences;  and  at  last  gathered  courage  to 


IN  ENGLAND.  89 

ring  the  bell,  and  ask  the  pretty  maid  who  re- 
sponded to  the  summons,  whether  two  stran- 
gers from  America  would  be  permitted  to  see 
the  grounds. 

She  courteously  invited  us  in  while  she 
made  inquiries;  and,  giving  us  seats,  tripped 
away,  to  be  presently  replaced  by  the  house- 
keeper, who  expressed  Mrs.  Bray's  regrets 
at  not  being  able  to  see  us  in  person,  but  add- 
ed that  she  herself  was  instructed  to  show  us 
the  house  and  grounds. 

The  impression  that  we  had  received  in  the 
morning,  and  that  was  destined  to  receive 
further  confirmation  later  on,  was  deepened 
now,  namely:  that  one  of  the  first  duties  of 
every  inhabitant  of  Coventry  is  to  obey  the 
apostolic  injunction  concerning  the  entertain- 
ment of  strangers.  Whether  angels  have 
ever  been  found  among  the  city's  visitors,  I 
cannot  say.  This  I  know,  Princess  and  my- 
self were,  on  that  summer  afternoon,  as  an- 
gelic as  we  knew  how  to  be. 

The  most  attractive  part  of  Mrs.  Bray's 
cottage  was  the  morning  room,  a  large  piazza 
walled  in  with  glass,  in  order  that  all  the  sun's 


90  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

rays  might  be  retained  for  the  mistress  whose 
circulation  was  growing  a  little  sluggish. 

In  this  room  were  gathered  mementoes  of 
the  thinkers  of  her  day  whom  Mrs.  Bray  had 
counted  among  her  friends.  These  took 
the  form  of  autograph  manuscripts,  por- 
traits, busts  and  gifts  of  books  from  their 
authors.  Here  the  good  lady  might  sit  in  the 
evening  of  life,  and  commune  with  the  spirits 
of  departed  great  ones  at  their  best  and  high- 
est. 

We  felt  doubtful  about  making  an  effort  to 
see  more  of  the  Evans  house  in  the  Foleshill 
Road  than  was  visible  from  the  highway ;  but 
Mrs.  Bray's  housekeeper  urged. 

"O,  by  all  means,  ladies,  ask  to  see  the 
garden.  Permission  to  do  that  is  always 
given  cheerfully." 

Thus  encouraged,  we  set  forth,  going  a 
part  of  the  way  on  the  top  of  a  tram,  and 
walking  the  remainder  of  the  distance  along 
the  beautiful  road.  At  length  we  reached  the 
house;  and,  ringing  at  the  side  door,  prof- 
fered our  humble  request  to  the  smart  maid 
who  answered  our  summons.  This  person- 


IN  ENGLAND.  91 

age  left  us  standing  outside  "Wile  she  went 
to  h'ahsk." 

To  us  presently  came  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  far  less  imposing  and  "uppish"  than 
her  domestic.  She  was,  in  fact,  a  most  kindly 
and  cordial  lady,  who  would  not  listen  to 
such  a  thing  as  our  going  away  with  merely 
a  sight  of  the  garden.  She  herself  conducted 
us  over  the  house,  carefully  noting  the  addi- 
tion made  since  the  end  of  the  Evans  occu- 
pation. She  showed  us  George  Eliot's  own 
room,  and  gave  us  sprigs  from  the  holly  tree 
under  the  window  near  which  she  used  to  sit 
at  her  writing.  The  lady  even  went  with  us 
over  the  lawn  and  gardens,  to  our  expres- 
sions of  gratitude  returning  the  gracious  an- 
swer: 

"O,  please  don't  mention  it;  I  visited 
America  the  year  of  the  Columbian  exposi- 
tion; and  every  one  was  so  kind  to  me,  that 
1  made  a  vow  to  return  the  kindness  to  every 
American  who  should  come  in  my  way." 

At  last,  we  dragged  our  reluctant  feet  out 
of  the  beautiful  gardens,  and  betook  our- 
selves by  tram  and  cab  to  Griff  House,  near 


92  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Nuneaton,  the  childhood  home  of  the  creator 
of  Tom  and  Maggie.  The  people  who  occu- 
py this  house  evidently  did  not  come  over  to 
the  Columbian  exposition,  for  they  do  not  ad- 
mit visitors  to  their  home.  Consequently, 
we  were  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with 
wandering  about  the  grounds,  and  trying  to 
determine  from  an  exterior  view,  the  proba- 
ble location  of  the  attic  in  which  little  Mary 
Ann  Evans  used  to  subject  her  own  wooden 
doll  to  the  treatment  which  she  describes 
Maggie  Tulliver  as  inflicting  upon  her  inani- 
mate scapegoat. 

A  strange,  unhappy  girlhood,  this  of  Mar- 
ian Evans,  must  have  been.  Isolated  by  her 
very  genius  from  real  association  with  the 
persons  who  surrounded  her,  and  doubtless 
by  them  accounted  "queer,"  she  lived  alone 
with  her  thoughts  and  emotions,  her  mind  a 
highly  sensitized  plate  whereon  the  life  she 
witnessed  left  indelible  impressions.  Her 
analysis  of  the  thoughts  and  emotions  of  her 
rustic  neighbors  in  her  first  and  greatest 
novels,  shows  how  closely  and  sympathetic- 


IN  ENGLAND.  93 

ally  she  studied  them,  although  they  had 
but  small  understanding  of  her. 

But  I  am  roused  from  the  reflections  by  the 
voice  of  my  mentor,  the  Princess,  asking 
whether  it  is  my  intention  to  return  to  Cov- 
entry, and  thence  to  Warwick  this  afternoon, 
or  to  spend  the  night  in  the  garden  of  Griff 
House.  She  gives  point  and  emphasis  to  her 
questions  by  reminding  me  that  our  cab  is 
hired  by  the  hour. 

Moved  by  the  tone  of  her  voice,  as  well  as 
by  her  thrifty  suggestion,  I  bid  farewell  to 
Griff  House,  and  we  set  our  faces  once  more 
toward  Coventry. 

Arrived  at  the  station,  we  learn  that  the 
train  is  late.  I  generously  refrain  from  re- 
marking to  Princess  that  we  might  have  staid 
half  an  hour  longer  at  Griff  House.  To  this 
silence  I  am  partly  held  by  the  reflection  that 
my  fellow  traveler  would  reply: 

"Of,  if  we  had  staid,  such  is  the  perversity 
of  trains  that  this  one  would  have  been  on 
time." 

Presently,  seeing  my  uneasiness,  Princess 
observes; 


94  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

"There  are  two  hospitals  here,  two 
churches — the  other  'spires' — and  a  bicycle 
factory.  You  might  visit  some  of  those  while 
we  wait." 

Whereto  I  respond : 

"We  are  coming  again  for  the  hospitals 
and  churches.  As  for  bicycle  factories,  they 
abound  in  Dayton,  Ohio,  and  other  parts  of 
Uncle  Samuel's  country,  where  George  Eliot, 
Peeping  Tom  and  Lady  Godiva  never  lived, 
nor  Isabella  of  the  uneasy  conscience  built 
churches  to  atone  for  her  crimes.  Bicycle 
factories  in  Coventry  have  no  attractions  for 
me." 

After  a  time,  Princess  goes  for  a  solitary 
stroll  along  the  platform ;  she  returns  soon, 
wearing  a  most  grim  and  forbidding  expres- 
sion upon  her  usually  vivacious  face.  She 
volunteers  no  explanation.  I  ask  for  none, 
but  resolve  that  I,  too,  will  promenade  and 
thereby,  possibly,  learn  something  interest- 
ing. 

As  I  move  down  the  long  platform,  my 
eye  is  caught  by  the  pretty  white-capped 
maids  at  the  refreshment  stands.  The  after- 


IN  ENGLAND.  95 

noon  is  warm,  and  the  maids  look  refresh- 
ingly cool  and  neat.  We  have  thus  far  in  our 
wanderings  absorbed  various  strange  and  un- 
appetizing liquids  poured  out  for  us  in  re- 
sponse to  our  request  for  lemonade.  A  sud- 
den inspiration  seizes  me  at  sight  of  the  fine- 
looking  lemons  piled  up  on  the  tables.  I 
cheerfully  approach  the  door  and  say  to  the 
white-capped  Hebe: 

"One  lemon-squash,  please." 

She  perpetrates  the  usual  "Thank  you-ou- 
ou,"  with  the  inevitable  drawl  and  the  mad- 
dening upward  slide,  squeezes  the  juice  of 
half  an  enormous  lemon  into  a  glass  of  water, 
with 

"Four-pence,  please;  thank  you-ou,"  and 
hies  her  away  to  supply  the  wants  of  another 
thirsty  traveler. 

With  pleasing  anticipations  of  "h'American 
lemonade,"  I  raise  the  glass  to  my  mouth; 
but  this  is,  sometimes,  a  disappointing  world ; 
there  is  no  sugar  in  the  stuff,  and  the  girl  is 
beyond  reach,  and  evidently  intends  to  re- 
main there ;  she  is  coquetting  with  a  man  in 
tweeds,  and  evidently  finds  that  more  inter- 


96  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

esting  than  looking  after  my  prosaic  necessi- 
ties. I  swallow  enough  of  the  acid  to  relieve 
my  thirst;  try  to  comfort  myself  with  the 
thought  that  lemon  juice  and  water  is  a  good 
corrective  for  biliousness;  set  the  glass  down 
rather  hard;  and  then  return  to  my  com- 
rade, wearing  an  expression  as  unpleasant  as 
her  own  had  been  shortly  before. 

As  soon  as  she  catches  sight  of  my  face, 
that  young  woman,  enlightened  by  experi- 
ence, cries  out: 

"Ah,  you  have  been  trying  a  lemon- 
squash  !" 

"Yes,  for  my  sins,"  I  reply  with  a  groan; 
and  then  we  both  laugh,  with  the  prolonged 
laughter  that  comes  of  utter  exhaustion,  and 
that  in  some  way  relieves  the  nervous  tension 
and  makes  us  feel  better. 

When  we  reach  our  own  room  at  the  Dale, 
we  add  another  chapter  to  our  history  of 
"lemonade  as  she  is  drunk"  in  the  British 
Isles;  and  then  go  to  bed  to  dream  of  fas- 
cinating old  houses,  churches  and  winding 
streets  whose  guardian  angels  are  kindly  folk 
governed  by  a  desire  to  make  the  stranger 


IN  ENGLAND.  97 

happy  by  helping  him  to  find  everything  he 
most  desires  to  see. 

The  next  day  was  the  one  set  for  the  arri- 
val of  Miss  Bradford  and  Helen ;  so  we  went 
to  the  station  to  meet  them.  In  my  sur- 
prise at  finding  Ned  with  them — Princess  did 
not  seem  at  all  astonished —  and  the  inter- 
change of  questions  and  explanations,  so 
much  time  was  consumed,  that  when  we  tried 
to  find  a  cab,  the  last  one  had  disappeared. 

"You  see  mum,"  explained  the  lame  old 
man  who  seemed  the  presiding  genius  of  the 
place.  "So  many  h'Americans  came  h'in  h'on 
this  train  that  they've  swallowed  h'every  cab 
h'about  the  place." 

So  we  were  fain  to  content  ourselves  with 
engaging  a  boy  to  bring  the  baggage  to  the 
hotel  in  a  hand-cart,  while  we  ourselves  went 
thither  on  foot. 

Helen  and  I  walked  on  together,  while  Ned 
escorted  Miss  Bradford  and  Princess.  • 

"Now,  tell  me,"  I  said,  when  we  were  fair- 
ly started,  "where  you  found  Ned.  I  haven't 
this  matter  cleared  up  yet." 

"We  had  been  in   Edinburgh   two  days," 

7 


98  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

replied  Helen,  "when  Mr.  Andrus  surprised 
us  by  walking  into  the  hotel  dining-room, 
just  after  we  had  sat  down  to  dinner.  When 
he  saw  us,  he  asked  if  he  might  take  a  vacant 
seat  near,  and  Auntie  said,  'O,  certainly.'  We 
were  very  glad  to  see  him,  and  he  made  the 
rest  of  the  journey  much  easier  for  us  inex- 
perienced travelers." 

Just  then  I  heard  Miss  Bradford's  voice 
behind  me,  saying: 

"So  fortunate,  was  it  not,  that  Mr.  Andrus 
should  have  happened  to  come  to  the  Old 
Waverly,  too?  You  have  no  idea  what  a 
help  he  has  been." 

"O,  when  people  are  traveling  about  this 
little  island,  they  are  bound  to  run  against 
each  other  more  or  less,"  commented  Prin- 
cess ;  and  something  revealed  to  me  that  she 
had  playe'd  some  part  in  bringing  about  this 
particular  coincidence.  "And  I'm  sure  Ned 
ought  to  know  how  to  make  himself  useful; 
Peregrina  and  I  have  done  our  best  to  disci- 
pline him." 

"That  is  true,"  responded  Ned  heartily.  "I 
cannot  complain,  with  any  show  of  justice, 


IN  ENGLAND.  99 

that  my  cousins  have  ever  neglected  me  in 
any  way." 

I  could  detect  the  same  tone  of  suppressed 
mischief  in  his  voice  that  I  had  before  re- 
marked in  the  tones  of  the  Princess.  I 
glanced  at  Helen;  she  did  not  return  my  look 
directly;  but  I  could  see  a  glimmer  of  fun 
under  her  long  dark  lashes,  and  a  faint  quiver 
in  the  dimples  about  her  mouth.  So  I  was 
sure  that  my  suspicions  had  been  correct,  and 
that  Princess  had  been  assisting  the  fates  a 
little  by  means  of  the  royal  mails. 

Our  three  friends  enjoyed  the  Dale  as 
much  as  we  did,  and  found  our  hostess,  a 
timid  little  creature  whom  Helen  christened 
"the  startled  fawn,"  as  attentive  to  their 
wishes  and  careful  of  their  comforts  as  any 
one  could  be.  Even  Miss  Bradford  expressed 
her  lofty  satisfaction. 

We  all  went  together  to  St.  Mary's  Church, 
whose  chief  attraction  is  beautiful  Beau- 
champ  chapel,  where  are  buried  Robert,  Earl 
of  Leicester, — Lettice,  his  wife,  and  the  "no- 
ble imp"  their  son.  The  crypt  of  the  church 
is  also  interesting,  chiefly  because  it  contains 


ioo  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

a  ducking-stool,  once  used  as  a  means  of  dis- 
cipline for  the  good  dames  of  Warwick  when 
they  showed  themselves  too  glib  and  shrill 
of  tongue.  I  wondered  what  befell  the  men 
in  like  circumstances ;  and  Ned  expressed  his 
intention  of  having  one  or  two  instruments 
made  after  that  model  for  the  benefit  of  cer- 
tain politicians  in  his  home  ward. 

There  is  a  set  of  chimes  in  St.  Mary's  tower, 
which  plays  a  different  tune  for  every  day  in 
the  week.  At  midnight,  the  tune  for  the  clos- 
ing day  is  played,  followed  immediately  by 
that  which  is  to  gladden  the  ears  of  the  inhab- 
itant of  Warwick  and  the  stranger  within  his- 
gates  during  the  next  twenty-four  hours. 
There  is  something  wrong  with  the  machin- 
ery, so  that,  in  places,  the  time  is  quite  pe- 
culiar, and  occasionally  one  or  two  notes  fail 
to  sound.  The  effect  of  this  singular  be- 
havior on  the  part  of  the  bells  is  simply  mad- 
dening when  one  is  trying  to  go  to  sleep  after 
a  hard  day's  work.  Princess  and  I  amused 
ourselves  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night,  try- 
ing to  imagine  why  any  one  had  ever  wished 
for  a  set  of  chimes  that  rang  every  quarter- 


IN  ENGLAND.  161 

hour  seven  days  in  the  week,  fifty-two  weeks 
in  the  year,  for  century  after  century. 

One  morning  at  the  breakfast  table  Helen 
propounded  the  theory  that  the  purpose  of 
the  contrivance  must  have  been  to  prevent 
people  from  sleeping  too  soundly,  at  a  period 
when  the  devout  were  expected  to  observe 
primes  and  matins. 

"It  would  take  something  more  than 
chimes  to  keep  the  people  of  this  town 
awake,"  objected  Ned.  "It's  my  opinion  that 
the  machine  was  devised  as  a  penance  for 
monks  who  were  too  fond  of  the  profane  art 
of  music.  It  would  certainly  have  been  a  suf- 
ficiently severe  penalty  for  most  sins." 

We  did  not  care  much  for  the  service  at  St. 
Mary's  on  week  days.  The  congregation  was 
small  and  seemed  indifferent,  and  the  clergy- 
man had  a  voice  that  should  have  been  a  bar 
to  his  ordination. 

We  did  enjoy  dropping  in  occasionally  at 
the  picturesque  and  quiet  old  church  of  St. 
Nicholas  for  the  unpretentious  reading  of 
morning  prayers;  and,  on  Sunday,  we  found 
a  dissenting  chapel,  where  a  simple  and  prac- 


102  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

tical  sermon  was  preached,  and  the  singing 
reminded  us  of  the  efforts  of  country  choirs 
in  our  own  beloved  land. 

One  of  the  most  attractive  places  in  War- 
wick is  Leicester's  Hospital.  Nothing  else 
can  give  the  visitor  the  concentrated  flavor 
of  the  town,  like  this  home  for  disabled  sol- 
diers. The  building  dates  from  the  four- 
teenth century;  and  was,  therefore,  about 
two  hundred  years  old  when  it  was  ceded  to 
our  ancient  enemy,  Robert  Dudley,  for  the 
housing  of  a  hospital  that  he  was  minded  to 
found. 

Among  all  the  old  houses  that  give  kindly 
greeting  from  every  corner  and  by  street  of 
Warwick,  none  are  so  beautiful  as  this  group, 
standing  in  the  friendly  shadow  of  the  west 
gate.  There  is  a  greater  number  of  curious 
gables,  and  all  the  beams  and  projecting  bits 
of  wood  are  more  elaborately  carved  here 
than  elsewhere  in  the  town.  Here,  too,  are 
displayed  the  coats  of  arms  of  the  numerous 
patrons  of  the  institution.  Conspicuous 
among  them  are  the  bear-and-ragged-staff  of 
the  Nevilles  and  the  Dudleys,  and  Sidney's 


w 

cc 


O 

X 

H 


IN  ENGLAND.  103 

rather  formidable  porcupine.  It  is  hard  to 
connect  this  grotesque  and  bristling  animal 
with  the  chivalrous,  intellectual,  and  efficient 
gentleman  who  sparkled  as  the  chief  jewel  of 
Elizabeth's  dominions.  But  most  of  us  re- 
ceive something  undesirable  from  our  ances- 
tors ;  and  Sidney  was  fortunate,  if  all  the  dis- 
agreeable things  connected  with  his  forebears 
were  found  in  this  cognizance  of  the  hedge- 
hog. 

The  brother  who  showed  us  about  was 
quite  as  interesting  as  the  place  itself,  and  a 
fitting  guide  to  its  beauties  and  mysteries. 
For  a  long  period  he  served  his  queen  in  her 
armies,  having  been  upwards  of  twenty  years 
in  India.  For  twenty-six  years  he  had  dwelt 
in  the  hospital,  daily  growing  prouder  of  his 
position,  its  dignities,  and  privileges.  He  in- 
formed us  with  a  manner  that  conveyed  the 
impression  that  nothing  short  of  a  prostra- 
tion on  our  part  would  do  justice  to  the  an- 
nouncement that  he  had,  shortly  before,  "'ad 
the  h'onor  h'of  showin'  'is  Royal  'ighness  the 
Prince  h'of  Wales  h'over  the  'aouse  an' 
graounds." 


104  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Fortunate  Prince  of  Wales !  How  delight- 
ful it  must  be  to  create  happiness  for  such 
numbers  of  people,  merely  by  letting  them 
gaze  when  you  pass  by,  or  better  still,  open 
a  door  for  you.  When  all  is  said,  royalty  has 
its  uses. 

The  old  garden  is  divided  into  long  strips, 
each  assigned  to  a  brother  who  cultivates  it 
according  to  his  own  fancy.  Each  strip  con- 
tains potatoes,  vegetables,  and  various  old- 
fashioned  flowers,  all  growing  harmoniously, 
side  by  side. 

Between  the  brothers'  garden  and  the 
court,  stands  a  vase,  a  milometer,  an  exqui- 
site piece  of  creamy  white  stone,  with  the 
usual  lotus  and  the  wavy  lines  representing 
the  waters  of  the  Nile.  Beside  this  patriarch 
among  vases,  the  great  one  from  Hadrian's 
villa  which  is  to  be  seen  at  the  castle,  appears 
very  young  and  a  trifle  commonplace.  The 
Roman  vase  is  much  larger  and  far  more 
profusely  ornamented,  but  the  Egyptian,  with 
its  simple  dignified  lines,  is  full  of  the  mys- 
tery and  wonder  inseparable  from  the  race 
whose  creation  it  is.  The  Roman  vase  saw 


IN  ENGLAND.  105 

the  decline  of  the  Caesars,  but  this  one  was 
standing  by  the  Nile  when  Rameses  built  his 
treasure-cities. 

The  gateway  between  garden  and  court  is 
spanned  by  a  Norman  arch  found  in  the  crypt 
of  the  neighboring  chapel,  when  that  build- 
ing was  restored  a  few  years  ago.  In  its  pres- 
ent position  the  arch  is  very  effective,  and  ex- 
cites no  feeling  of  dissatisfaction  over  its 
change  of  location.  There  is  here  that  atmos- 
phere of  quiet  remoteness  from  every-day 
life  that  we  are  wont  to  associate  with  a  Cath- 
edral close,  so  the  ecclesiastical  arch  seems 
quite  at  home. 

In  the  kitchen  stands  the  chair  occupied  by 
James  I  when  he  was  entertained  in  the  ban- 
queting hall  above ;  and  close  by  is  a  Saxon 
chair  dating  from  King  Alfred's  time.  The 
guide-books  say  it  is  uncomfortable,  but  I  did 
not  find  it  so. 

Near  the  clock  hang  two  bits  of  faded  tap- 
estry wrought  by  the  hands  of  no  less  a  per- 
son than  fair  Amy  Robsart.  Our  guide  took 
delight  in  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Sir  Walter  has  made  a  mistake  in  dates;  for 


106  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Amy,  at  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  visit 
to  Kenilworth,  had  been  dead  twelve  years. 
Well,  suppose  she  had?  It  is  none  the  less 
Sir  Walter's  Amy  over  whose  tomb  at  Ox- 
ford we  drop  a  tear,  literal  or  figurative ;  and 
not  all  the  pious  inscriptions  in  the  hospital 
which  his  lordship  of  Leicester  founded,  will 
change  our  rooted  opinion  that  the  said  Lei- 
cester was  an  unmitigated  rascal.  It  satisfies 
one's  sense  of  poetic  justice  to  hear  the  dark 
whisper  that  Countess  Lettice,  whose  marble 
hand  Earl  Robert  is  represented  as  holding 
most  affectionately  on  their  tomb  in  Beau- 
champ  Chapel,  did  poison  her  lordly  consort, 
because  she  preferred  some  other  man  to 
him.  It  was  not  a  nice  thing  for  the  lady  to 
do,  but  his  fate  was  as  good  as  the  earl  de- 
served. 

The  banqueting  hall  with  its  beams  of 
Spanish  cedar,  white  and  fresh  as  if  cut  yes- 
terday, was  particularly  interesting  to  our 
guide,  because  of  the  banquet  in  honor  of 
•  King  James,  before  referred  to.  He  affected 
to  read  an  inscription  commemorating  the  oc- 
casion, but  really  repeated  it  by  rote.  This 


IN  ENGLAND.  107 

he  did  with  great  sound,  bringing  his  heels 
together  in  a  way  that  suggested  the  pro- 
priety of  a  flourish  of  trumpets,  either  at  the 
beginning  or  end  of  the  performance. 

The  tiny  chapel  over  the  West  Gate  has 
seats  for  the  accommodation  of  the  brethren 
and  their  wives.  Here,  at  ten  in  the  morning 
on  week-days  the  service  is  read  by  the  Mas- 
ter, who  is  always  a  clergyman  of  the  Church 
of  England.  On  Sundays,  the  brothers  at- 
tend service  at  St.  Mary's  in  the  village,  and 
mightily  proud  they  are,  in  their  dark-blue 
gowns  and  the  silver  badges  bearing  the  Lei- 
cester arms. 

At  the  west  end  of  the  chapel,  to  the  left 
of  the  door,  is  the  Master's  seat,  and  to  the 
right  that  of  the  nobleman  who  is  at  the  head 
of  the  board  of  trustees.  The  stalls  of  the 
brethren  face  each  other,  six  on  a  side ;  and, 
nearer  the  altar,  are  the  corresponding  seats 
for  their  wives. 

At  each  brother's  place  is  a  Bible  and  a 
prayer-book.  Tradition  hath  it  that,  some- 
time in  the  sixties,  money  was  contributed 
to  buy  books  for  the  old  ladies.  Thereupon, 


io8  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

the  brethren  promptly  took  possession  of  the 
new  books,  passing  the  old  ones  on  to  their 
better  halves.  Not  a  very  chivalrous  pro- 
ceeding, was  it  ?  But  then,  they  carefully  ex- 
plain, the  brothers  are  the  real  beneficiaries  of 
the  foundation,  and  their  wives,  to  use  a  Yan- 
kee phrase,  "connected  only  by  marriage." 

So  true  is  this  statement  that,  when  a 
brother  dies,  his  widow,  however  aged  and 
helpless,  must  leave  the  shelter  of  the  hos- 
pital, and  seek  a  home  elsewhere.  The  fees 
of  visitors  are  now  devoted  to  a  fund  intend- 
ed to  provide  for  the  poor  women  and  pre- 
vent their  being  left  homeless  as  well  as 
widowed. 

Our  guide  proudly  showed  us  that  the  old 
west  wall  of  the  city  formed  a  part  of  the 
boundary  line  of  the  hospital  demesne;  and 
could,  in  consequence,  never  be  removed. 
He  was  a  prince  of  guides,  for  he  loved  the 
old  building,  and  his  guidance  was  not  a  mere 
form  of  conducting  troublesome  strangers 
over  the  house  and  grounds.  He  allowed 
nothing  to  pass  unnoticed;  he  put  us  at  the 
best  points  for  observing,  and  insisted  upon 


IN  ENGLAND.  109 

our  seeing  every  bit  of  carving  and  the  small- 
est letter  of  each  inscription. 

Just  as  we  were  leaving,  we  ventured  to 
ask  his  name ;  he  showed  us  an  envelope  ad- 
dressed to  Robert  Owen,  saying  with  a 
smile : 

"You  see,  'owever  much  h'l  pay,  hTm 
h'always  a  h'Owen." 

With  this  remark  as  food  for  meditation, 
until  elimination  of  superfluous  h's  should  re- 
veal its  occult  meaning,  we  bade  our  cicerone 
good-bye,  and  turned  away  from  the  sturdy- 
looking  figure  at  the  gate,  a  figure  whose 
ruddy  face,  crowned  by  snowy  hair,  bore  an 
expression  of  pity  for  the  foreigners  who 
might  never,  as  disabled  British  soldiers  of 
certain  favored  counties,  be  sent  to  end  their 
days  at  Leicester's  hospital. 

Of  course,  all  visitors  to  Warwick  go  to  see 
the  castle.  If  one  might  wander  about  the 
armory  long  enough  to  make  acquaintance 
with  the  relics  gathered  therein,  or  pause  in 
the  picture-gallery  for  a  sufficient  length  of 
time  to  identify  the  famous  personages  whose 
portraits  are  there  displayed,  the  visit  might 


no 


be  both  pleasant  and  profitable ;  for  the  stout 
old  fortress  is  associated  with  some  of  the 
most  stirring  events  of  English  history. 

Although  visitors  are  driven  through  the 
castle  by  a  red-uniformed  soldier  whose  gen- 
eral appearance  and  behavior  suggest  those 
of  a  loquacious  lobster,  and  although  the  rate 
of  speed  at  which  the  traveler  progresses  is 
like  that  of  a  pea  through  a  pop-gun,  and  we 
reach  the  exit  too  warm  and  ruffled  to  carry 
away  very  affectionate  memories  of  Sir  Guy's 
punch-bowl,  or  the  rib  of  the  "dun  cow," 
which  is  "very  like  a  whale's,"  it  is  always 
possible  to  enjoy  the  garden  and  the  park  at 
leisure. 

Here,  the  most  attractive  things  are  not 
the  peacocks,  preening  and  strutting  in  the 
sun,  and  very  evidently  enjoying  the  admira- 
tion they  excite ;  nor  even  the  great  Warwick 
vase;  but  the  mighty  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
which  some  long-ago  lord  of  the  manor 
brought  from  the  Holy  Land  in  old  crusading 
days.  Sad-looking  trees  they  are,  with  a 
mournful  voice  when  the  wind  breathes  upon 
them,  reminders  of  dead  generations,  and  of 


IN  ENGLAND.  in 

faiths  and  enthusiasms  that  have  not  perish- 
ed, but  taken  on  new  forms. 

Princess  refused  to  allow  me  to  go  to  the 
castle  with  the  others,  declaring  that  I  had 
come  home  from  my  last  visit  so  cross  as  to 
be  unfit  for  civilized  society.  Accordingly, 
while  she  went  to  our  room  to  nurse  a  head- 
ache, I,  having  seen  the  others  started,  went 
out  to  sketch  the  old  chapel  over  the  East 
Gate. 

When  Helen  returned  at  noon,  she  came  to 
stand  in  our  door,  with  her  hands  behind 
her,  looking  at  me  with  dancing  eyes. 

"When  children  are  made  to  stay  at  home 
from  interesting  places,  it  is  always  proper 
for  those  who  are  allowed  to  go,  to  bring 
home  something  nice  for  them,  isn't  it? 

Then  she  flourished  a  beautiful  peacock's 
feather. 

"Where  did  you  get  that?"  demanded 
Princess  and  I  in  one  breath. 

"Well,"  the  young  lady  replied  deliberate- 
ly, "I  saw  that  one  of  these  gorgeous  birds 
was  about  to  lose  this  feather;  and  so,  while 
Auntie  was  listening  to  the  rigmarole  that 


ii2  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

old  parrot  reels  off  about  the  'vahze,'  I  fol- 
lowed the  vain  creature  about  till  the  feather 
dropped  on  the  ground,  and  then  I  picked  it 
up  and  brought  it  home  for  Miss  Peregrina  to 
put  in  that  precious  book  where  she  keeps 
all  her  treasures  and  relics.  Possibly  it  would 
have  taken  longer  to  secure  the  feather,  if 
Mr.  Andrus  handn't  helped  me  a  little." 

Kenilworth  is,  on  the  whole,  more  satisfy- 
ing than  Warwick  Castle.  Here  no  guide 
hurries  the  visitor  from  place  to  place  mum- 
bling statements  uninteresting  to  himself  and 
unintelligible  to  his  hearers. 

As  a  rule,  guides  should  be  stationed  here 
and  there  in  historic  grounds  and  buildings, 
with  instructions  to  remain  silent  unless  ques- 
tioned, and  should  be  feed  in  proportion  to 
their  obedience  to  these  orders. 

At  Kenilworth,  the  stranger  may  wander 
at  will  about  the  ruins,  locating  the  spots 
where  tourneys  were  held  of  yore ;  may  even 
imagine  Queen  Bess,  in  all  the  glory  of  one 
of  her  most  marvelous  costumes,  sweeping 
over  the  bridge  into  the  castle  yard ;  may 
fancy,  too,  in  spite  of  dates,  that  he  sees  Amy 


IN  ENGLAND.  113 

Robsart's  frightened  face,  looking  out  from 
the  tower  window  down  upon  the  pleasance, 
trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  dazzling 
fickle  hero  who  had  captivated  her  girlish 
imagination. 

Stones  and  mortar  may  crumble,  and  ivy 
cover  the  walls,  but  for  us  there  rise  again 
the  banquet-hall,  the  chapel,  the  towers,  Ken- 
ilworth  in  its  glory  as  perhaps  it  was  seen  on 
a  summer's  day  in  the  sixth  or  seventh  decade 
of  the  sixteenth  century  by  Master  John 
Shakespeare's  lad,  Will. 

The  American  who  reads  so  much,  and 
withal  so  meekly,  about  the  commercial  spirit 
that  prevails  in  his  awn  country,  and  the  wor- 
ship of  the  "almighty  dollar"  so  fervent  and 
widespread  there,  has  always  a  feeling  of 
amusement  in  going  about  Stratford,  and 
paying  a  shilling  or  sixpence  at  every  turn; 
to  see  Anne  Hathaway's  house,  to  enter 
Shakespeare's  birthplace,  to  visit  the  museum 
and  library,  for  entrance  to  the  beautiful  old 
church  where  lies  the  dust  that  once  housed 
the  soul  of  the  greatest  poet  of  the  world. 
Within  the  church  one  is  pursued  by  a  deter- 
8 


H4  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

mined  young  man  in  clerical  dress,  who  is 
quite  resolved  that  no  visitor,  especially  if  an 
American,  shall  escape  paying  tribute.  The 
harassed  pilgrim  wishes  that  he  might  pay 
the  sum  of  all  these  shillings  and  sixpences 
immediately  upon  his  entry  into  the  town, 
and  then  be  left  in  peace  to  pursue  his  inves- 
tigations and  dream  his  time  away.  The 
average,  fairly  well-read  American  knows  a 
great  deal  more  about  Shakespeare  and  his 
haunts  than  the  average  so-called  guide  can 
tell  him;  and  is  willing,  if  necessary  to  pay 
for  the  privilege  of  being  left  alone  during  his 
stay  in  Stratford,  provided  he  can  do  his  pay- 
ing all  at  one  time,  and  be  thereafter  free  to 
pursue  his  own  devices. 

In  the  south  transept  of  Trinity  Church  is 
the  so-called  American  window.  Near  it  is 

a  box  bearing  the  persuasive  legend :  "$ 

are  necessary  for  the  completion  of  this  win- 
dow. If  every  American  visitor  would  con- 
tribute a  dollar  it  might  be  finished  this  year." 

So  far  as  careful  observation  can  deter- 
mine, there  is  aside  from  the  aforementioned 
dollars  nothing  American  about  the  window 


IN  ENGLAND.  115 

except  a  compartment  representing  the  land- 
ing of  the  Pilgrims.  Just  why  King  Charles 
the  Martyr  (!)  and  Archbishop  Laud  should 
figure  in  this  window,  it  is  difficult  to  say. 
Possibly  because  their  behavior  drove  so 
many  people  out  of  England,  and  thereby 
contributed  indirectly  to  the  founding  of  the 
colonies  that  later  on  grew  so  obstreperous. 
The  connection  of  these  worthies  with 
Shakespeare  is  equally  hard  to  trace.  Queen 
Bess,  Sidney,  Raleigh,  Ben  Jonson,  the  de- 
struction of  the  Armada,  scenes  from  the 
plays,  would  all  have  a  fitness  in  Stratford 
church;  while  if  the  window  is  to  be  Amer- 
ican, Hampden,  Pym,  and  Eliot,  or  Sir  Henry 
Vane,  were  better  subjects,  even  stout  old 
Noll,  himself,  though  he  was  not  beautiful; 
nor,  if  one  may  believe  the  statements  of 
custodians  and  vergers,  any  warm  admirer  of 
stained  glass. 

If  Cromwell  or  his  troops  were  guilty  of 
half  the  destruction  laid  to  their  charge,  they 
must  have  led  a  busy  life.  Recent  investiga- 
tions, however,  cause  me  to  believe  that  His 
Majesty  King  Henry  the  Eighth,  of  pious 


n6  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

memory,  did  his  share  of  smashing,  and  that 
from  far  less  exalted  motives  than  those 
which  actuated  Cromwell  and  his  Ironsides. 

The  promoters  of  this  window  would  sho\\, 
far  greater  reverence  for  the  "lamp  of  truth" 
by  such  portraits  as  those  suggested  than 
by  the  ones  placed  here.  As  the  window  now 
stands,  it  is  calculated  to  arouse  lively  sym- 
pathy with  Cromwell's  feeling  toward  its 
kind. 

When  all  is  said,  we  must  acknowledge 
that  Oliver  and  his  comrades  gave  us  some- 
thing better  than  that  which  they  destroyed ; 
honesty,  reverence  for  truth,  uprightness, 
purity  of  life,  civil  and  religious  freedom. 
Charles  was  a  spoiled  child,  and  Laud,  his 
tool  and  victim.  "The  Martyr!"  Martyr  to 
his  own  obstinacy  and  his  inability  to  tell  the 
truth,  "or  even,"  Ned  amends  "to  tell  a  con- 
sistent lie  and  stick  to  it."  Cathedral  glass 
may  be  replaced;  "restoration  funds,"  like 
the  poor,  are  always  with  us ;  but  the  legacy 
of  Puritan  England,  the  world,  though  often 
unconscious  of  its  heritage,  could  ill  afford 
to  spare. 


IN  ENGLAND.  117 

After  the  indignation  meeting  of  which  the 
above  paragraphs  afford  a  sort  of  secretary's 
report,  we  soothed  our  ruffled  spirits  by  a 
quiet  time  in  the  chancel  with  its  curious 
"skew."  One  can  always  spare  a  few  minutes 
from  the  tomb,  with  its  startling  inscription 
and  unconvincing  bust,  to  enter  into  the  spirit 
of  the  old  builders,  who  drew  every  line  and 
laid  every  stone  in  loving  remembrance  of  the 
story  of  the  Cross;  and  perhaps  of  all  the 
symbolism  found  in  Gothic  churches,  none  is 
more  touching  than  this  bending  of  the  chan- 
cel to  recall  the  drooping  of  the  weary  head  of 
the  thorn-crowned  Son  of  God. 

The  bust  of  Shakespeare  in  the  church  cer- 
tainly does  violence  to  one's  every  conception 
of  the  way  a  poet  should  look.  Only  the 
dome-like  head  and  the  lofty  brow  are  at  all  in 
harmony  with  the  mind  of  the  artist  as  shown 
in  his  work.  Doubtless  the  bust  is  the  pro- 
duction of  a  local  artist  who  was  more  stone 
mason  than  sculptor,  and  it  therefore  shows 
only  the  most  obvious  traits,  leaving  unnoted 
all  those  finer  lines  which  give  to  any  face 
its  individual  distinction.  This  may  be  unfair 


n8  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

to  the  maker  of  the  bust ;  but  it  is  impossible 
to  believe  that  the  creator  of  Cordelia,  Rosa- 
lind, Juliet,  Viola,  the  two  Portias,  and  the 
rest  of  their  gracious  sisterhood,  could  have 
resembled  that  object.  Besides,  as  Ned  re- 
marked, "if  that  donkey  who  calls  himself  a 
guide,  over  at  the  Shakespeare  house, 
wouldn't  persist  in  trimming  his  hair  and 
beard  so  as  to  make  him  look  like  that  monu- 
ment, one  could  believe  in  it  more  easily." 

It  may  be  thought  that  these  views  of  our 
company  are  due  to  our  having  eaten  some- 
thing that  disagreed  with  us  during  our  visit 
to  Stratford.  This  would  be  a  serious  mis- 
take. We  had  walked  across  the  flowery 
fields  to  Shottery;  and  after  exploring  Anne 
Hathaway's  cottage,  returned  to  Stratford, 
tired  and  hungry,  as  doubtless  did  William 
himself  many  a  time,  after  the  same  prome- 
nade. By  our  twelve-years-old  guide — an 
ideal  age  for  a  guide  on  such  a  tramp — we 
were  conducted  to  an  inn  where  we  feasted 
sumptuously  on  lamb  with  mint-sauce  and 
green  peas,  and  other  truly  English  and  ex- 
ceedingly palatable  viands.  One  grows  at 


IN  ENGLAND.  ng 

times  a  trifle  weary  of  "the  roast  beef" — and 
roast  mutton — "of  old  England";  but  this 
meal  had  keen  hunger  for  a  sauce  and  was 
duly  appreciated. 

No ;  dyspepsia  did  not  cloud  our  judgment 
in  the  matter.  It  is  pretty  well-established 
now  that  the  thoughts  and  feelings  do  in  time 
chisel  the  face  into  some  expression  of  them- 
selves. And,  even  though  Shakespeare,  after 
the  fashion  of  his  time,  may  have  drunk  over- 
much sack  and  canary  at  the  Mermaid  Inn, 
and  elsewhere,  nevertheless  he  had  oftentimes 
great  and  noble  thoughts,  and  somewhere 
upon  his  countenance  they  must  have  left  a 
slight  trace. 

Doubtless  the  artist,  by  his  very  keenness 
of  perception,  is  exposed  to  special  tempta- 
tions from  the  sensuous  side  of  his  nature. 
But  even  though  he  be 

"Chance — swung  between  the  sky  and  pit." 

he  is  by  that  very  fact,  sometimes  lifted 
to  the  upper  air,  and  must  show  some  trace 
of  his  communication  with  the  higher  intelli- 
gences. 


CHAPTER  vi. 

OXFORD. 

Ned  was  called  back  to  London  the  day 
after  our  last  visit  to  Stratford;  and  a  few 
days  later  the  rest  of  our  company  went  on 
to  Oxford.  There  is  no  more  delightful  fash- 
ion of  spending  a  summer's  day  or  two  than 
in  loitering  about  the  colleges  and  cloisters  of 
the  University.  Usually  we  finish  our  inspec- 
tion of  city  by  a  comprehensive  drive  through 
its  streets;  but,  in  Oxford,  we  began  with  a 
leisurely  survey  of  the  town  from  comfortable 
seats  in  a  shabby-looking  cab.  Occasionally, 
we  stopped  for  a  closer  view  of  something 
particularly  interesting  as  St.  Mary's  Church, 
whereof  the  features  that  I  remember  most 
distinctly  are  the  twisted  pillars  outside  and 
the  tomb  of  Amy  Robsart  within. 

Is  it  not  strange  how  one's  thoughts  clmg 
about  Amy's  shadowy  figure?  She  had  no 
salient  points  of  character  to  attract  one's  in- 
terest; and  Helen  declares  that  she  is  quite 


IN  ENGLAND.  121 

sure  Amy  would  not  have  cared  so  very  much 
for  Leicester  had  he  been  a  less  dazzling  per- 
sonage ;  that,  in  short,  she  was  more  in  love 
with  the  idea  of  being  chosen  by  this  dashing 
cavalier  than  with  Robert  Dudley  himself. 
Moreover,  if  the  portrait  which  I  bought  at 
Kenilworth  tells  the  truth  about  her,  I  see 
more  beautiful  and  attractive  girls  than  she 
every  day — when  I'm  at  home.  They  don't 
drive  all  the  men  who  know  them  to  despair, 
dueling,  or  the  exploration  of  distant  regions, 
either.  I  wonder  if  the  masculine  half  of  our 
race  is  less  inflammable  than  of  yore,  or  if  the 
flames  are  more  successfully  hidden.  In 
faith,  I  think,  were  I  a  man,  I  could  fall  in 
love,  almost  any  day,  with  any  one  of  several 
maids  that  I  know.  Perhaps  I  have  hit  upon 
the  key  to  the  puzzle;  in  the  multiplicity  of 
attractions,  the  brothers  are  perhaps  bewil- 
dered and  unable  to  concentrate  their  affec- 
tions upon  one  object. 

No  one  can  look  at  the  Martyr's  Monu- 
ment without  a  thrill  of  pride  in  his  race. 
Those  whom  it  commemorates  were  men  ot 
like  frailties  with  our  own,  with  just  such  un- 


122  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

expected  manifestations  of  weakness,  and  oc- 
casional hours  of  strength;  yet  they  faced 
fagot  and  stake  calmly,  even  triumphantly, 
for  the  truth  as  revealed  to  them.  The  story 
of  Cranmer's  burning  his  hand  is  pathetic,  but 
full  of  comfort  for  all  such  as  are  given  to 
asking  themselves  whether,  at  need,  they 
could  face  obloquy  and  torture  for  the  sake  of 
principle. 

The  favored  youth  of  England  ought  to  be 
keyed  to  high  ideals  and  lofty  purposes,  pre- 
pared to  live  the  strenuous  life  in  a  fashion 
helpful  to  themselves  and  the  world.  Some 
such  results  we  have  a  right  to  expect  from 
men  who  pass  so  many  of  their  formative 
years  at  Eton,  Rugby,  and  Oxford.  If,  in- 
deed, the  mind  be 

"Like  the  dyer's  hand, 
Subdued  to  that  it  works  in," 

then  from  living  in  this  storied  town,  straying 
about  Christchurch  meadows  and  the  college 
quadrangles,  living  in  the  halls,  sitting  in  the 
libraries,  and,  in  general,  simmering  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  place,  it  would  seem  that 


IN  ENGLAND.  123 

the  Oxonian  must  absorb  culture  and  right 
thinking,  even  though  he  lack  diligence  and 
regularity  in  prescribed  study  and  attendance 
at  lectures. 

Doubtless,  however,  most  of  these  privi- 
leged creatures  appreciate  the  blessings  of 
the  University  town  only  when  separated 
from  it  by  time  and  space. 

What  a  joy  to  spend  days  and  hours  read- 
ing the  priceless  books  and  manuscripts  in 
the  Bodleian  library,  and  to  revive  and 
strengthen  one's  notions  of  history  by  inter- 
views with  the  portraits  here  and  in  the  other 
libraries  and  galleries. 

To  look  at  the  portraits  of  Chaucer  and 
Shelley  is  to  break  the  tenth  commandment; 
or,  at  least,  to  wrench  it  badly.  I  wonder 
what  Mrs.  Browning  meant  by  speaking  of 
Chaucer's 

"infantine, 
Familiar  clasp  of  things  divine." 

Familiar  he  certainly  is,  at  times ;  but  never 
infantine.  It  is  a  kindly  face  he  shows  us,  look- 
ing out  from  beneath  his  dark  hood,  but  the 


124  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

blue-grey  eyes  are  keen;  the  mouth,  for  all 
its  half  smile,  firm;  and,  altogether,  one 
gathers  from  his  portrait  that  Dan  Chaucer 
had  a  "very  sophisticated  understanding  of 
men  and  things.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  ? 
As  a  lad  he  knew  the  court  of  Edward  III  in- 
timately; and,  as  a  vintner's  son,  doubtless 
knew  certain  foibles  and  short-comings  of  the 
great  folk  who  dealt  with  his  father. 

It  is  not  probable  that  young  Geoffrey  was 
far  away  when  the  slogan  sounded  for  some 
'fray  of  the  'prentices  in  the  streets  of  Old 
London  Town.  Not  that  he  was  quarrel- 
some ;  O,  no ;  merely  a  sane,  healthy,  natural 
boy ;  and,  as  such  he  liked  to  be  where  things 
were  happening.  So,  later  on  he  went  a-sol- 
diering,  and  by  the  fortunes  of  war  spent 
some  time  in  a  foreign  prison.  Again,  he 
hied  him  forth  in  state,  ambassador  for  His 
Majesty  the  King.  Truly,  a  varied  life  he  led, 
this  poet  of  ours,  and  never  far  from  "the 
kindly  race  of  men."  For  Chaucer,  despite 
the  fact  that  "a  babbled  o'green  fields"  in 
most  delightful  wise,  is  essentially  a  poet  of 
humanity,  laughing  at,  but  loving,  his  kind. 


IN  ENGLAND.  125 

We  gather  that  there  was  much  coarseness 
in  the  England  of  his  day;  but  we  find  evi- 
dence that  he  knows  what  a  true  gentleman 
is  like, 

"Of  his  porte  as  meke  as  is  a  mayde ; 
He  never  yit  no  vilonye  ne  sayde, 
In  al  his  lyf,  unto  no  manner  wight; 
He  was  a  verray  parfight,  gentil  knight." 

and  one  may  go  far  before  meeting  his  better. 

As  to  the  current  superstition  that  Chaucer 
was  unhappy  in  his  domestic  relations,  one 
need  only  look  at  this  portrait  to  be  sure  that 
the  theory  is  nonsense.  That  is  the  face  ot 
a  man  who  could  laugh  Xantippe  herself  into 
good  humor.  To  be  sure  there  are  docu- 
ments which  show  that  the  poet  sometimes 
drew  his  salary  in  advance.  Mayhap  he  smug- 
gled costly  manuscripts  into  his  library  with- 
out consulting  his  wife,  a  course  of  conduct 
that  has  produced  clouds  of  varying  size  and 
density  upon  the  horizon  of  the  married  bib- 
liomaniac in  all  ages. 

Perhaps  over-indulgence  in  "bookes  blakke 
and  rede"  at  times  produced  a  scarcity  of  coin 


126  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

wherewith  to  meet  the  demands  of  our  tried 
friends 

"The  butcher,  the  baker, 
The  candle-stick  maker." 

Wherefore  there  was  the  sound  of  dissension 
in  the  Chaucer  household,  and  Philippa  lifted 
up  her  voice,  while  Geoffrey  put  on  his  cloak 
and  stole  away  to  wait  for  a  calmer  season. 
But  beyond  brief  squalls  of  this  nature,  I  de- 
cline to  believe  the  unpleasantness  went. 
Chaucer's  frequent  sarcastic  reference  to 
women  in  his  poems,  were  due  to  the  fashion 
of  his  times;  he  adopted  them  from  his 
French  models  along  with  his  April  weather, 
which  he  knew  very  well  doesn't  come  in 
England  until  May. 

But  we  must  not  let  Chaucer's  portrait 
monopolize  our  visit.  Here  is  a  tempting 
manuscript,  the  finest  in  the  world  of  the 
"Song  of  Roland."  If,  before  I  tear  myself 
away  from  the  case  containing  this  and  simi- 
lar treasures,  I  am  not  arrested  for  an  at- 
tempt at  grand  larceny,  my  family,  on  the  ar- 
rival of  the  last  Thursday  in  November,  will 


IN  ENGLAND.  127 

not  need  to  seek  further  causes  of  gratitude ; 
the  mission-boxes  in  their  vicinage  should 
overflow  with  thank-offerings. 

Yet  the  days  which  produced  such  marvels 
of  the  book-maker's  art  are  called  days  of  ig- 
norance. I  am  coming  to  the  conclusion  that 
knowledge  and  ignorance  are  distributed  with 
tolerable  evenness.  The  man  who  reads  fny 
gas-meter  cannot  enjoy  Homer  in  the  orig- 
inal nor  follow  Dante  in  his  progress  through 
the  other  world ;  but  he  can  make  my  bill  of 
vast  proportions,  even  in  summer  when  the 
jets  are  rarely  lighted.  Verily,  it  is  never  safe 
to  call  any  human  being  ignorant  or  stupid. 

In  the  gallery  above  the  library  hang  pic- 
tures with  which  one  would  like  to  live  for 
months.  The  portrait  of  the  present  king, 
painted  during  his  student  days,  gives  little 
promise  of  the  proportions  to  which  he  has 
since  attained.  He  looks  a  nice  laddie,  and 
his  appearance  affords  some  excuse  for  the 
furore  one  reads  of  in  the  old  magazines 
which  tell  the  story  of  his  visit  to  America  in 
the  early  sixties. 

Here  are  all  our  old  friends,  Pope,  Addi- 


128  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

son,  and  their  company,  Erasmus,  that  enig- 
ma of  Reformation  days;  the  Duke  of  Wel- 
lington; the  founder  of  the  Sheldonian  the- 
ater, dark  and  grim  of  face,  but  with  exquisite 
hands  shaded  by  his  filmy  lace  ruffles.  But 
Miss  Bradford  is  pouring  out  information  in 
her  usual  style,  a  style  intended  to  convey  to 
her  hearers  the  impression  that  here  is  a  very 
learned  lady  indeed,  but  which  usually  has  the 
effect  of  making  them  very  much  in  love  with 
unpretending  ignorance.  Some  of  the  infor- 
mation imparted  is  incorrect,  and  other  some 
is  of  the  sort  possessed  by  everybody,  but  it 
all  pours  out  steadily  in  a  stately,  slow-mov- 
ing stream,  until  perceiving  that  the  rest  of 
the  visitors  to  the  gallery  are,  like  ourselves, 
growing  weary  and  nervous,  we  manage — or 
rather  Helen  does,  for  she  is  skillful  from 
long  practice — to  get  the  lady  orator  out  of 
the  gallery,  and  set  out  to  ramble  through  the 
Magdalen  gardens,  trusting  that  they  will 
not  provide  any  learned  disquisitions. 

We  wander  along  Addison's  walk  quite 
peacefully,  and  agree  that  the  great  essayist 
displayed  as  good  taste  in  his  choice  of  a 


IN  ENGLAND. 


129 


loungmg-place  as  in  his  use  of  English. 
Helen  found  a  linden-blossom  lying  in  the 
path,  and  gave  it  to  me ;  and  now,  whenever 
I  open  the  volume  to  the  leaf  whereon  the 
pale-green  flower  lies,  the  faint,  sweet  per- 
fume brings  back  in  all  its  freshness  and  beau- 
ty the  shaded  walk,  the  river  flecked  with 
sunlight  dropping  through  the  over-hanging 
lime-boughs,  the  twittering  of  sparrows 
among  the  trees,  the  blue  sky  with  its  lazily- 
drifting  clouds;  all  the  sights,  sounds,  and 
odors  of  an  English  garden,  with  the  added 
glamour  of  associations  centuries  old. 

At  last,  whether  the  wanderer  move  slowly 
or  swiftly,  his  stay  in  Oxford  draws  to  a 
close.  He  must  gather  his  belongings,  few 
or  many  and  "move  on."  But  the  memory  of 
the  old  town,  with  its  winding  streets,  its  busy 
market,  its  ancient  colleges  in  their  charmed 
gardens  and  fields,  is  one  more  bit  of  wealth 
laid  away  to  count  and  gloat  over  in  coming 
days. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LONDON   TOWN. 

Does  any  American  ever  reach  London 
without  experiencing  a  curious  thrill  at  the 
thought  that,  at  last,  he  is  in  the  capital  and 
treasure-city  of  his  race? 

Coming  from  Oxford,  one  leaves  the  train 
at  Paddington  station.  Now,  in  most  of  the 
modern  English  novels  that  I  have  read, 
somebody  at  a  critical  point  in  the  story, 
either  leaves  or  arrives  by  way  of  Paddington 
station ;  and  cabbies  are  frequently  given  the 
order,  "To  Paddington."  This  is  equally 
true,  of  course,  with  regard  to  Euston,  Char- 
ing Cross,  Victoria,  or  Waterloo.  That  is  the 
beauty  of  London;  while  you  are  within  its 
limits,  no  matter  where  you  stand  or  sit,  you 
can  always  play  at  being  some  interesting  or 
important  person,  who  has  stood  or  sat  just 
there. 

We  took  up  our  abode  in  Bloomsbury,  at  a 
house  where  Princess  and  I  had  staid  during 


IN  ENGLAND.  131 

several  previous  visits  to  London,  in  the  very 
heart  of  Thackeraydom,  overlapped  by  the 
kingdom  of  Dickens;  for  did  not  the  Os- 
bornes  live  in  Russell  Square,  and  Sairy 
Gamp  in  King's  Gate  Street? 

Ned  was  staying  at  a  hotel  nearer  "the 
city;"  and,  in  the  intervals  of  business,  beg- 
ged the  privilege  of  going  sight-seeing  with 
us.  When  we  had  been  in  the  metropolis 
about  a  week,  I  said  to  Princess  one  night : 

"Did  you  notice  that  Miss  Bradford  treat- 
ed Ned  rather  coolly  this  afternoon?  What 
do  you  suppose  is  the  matter?" 

"O,  yes;  I've  noticed  it  once  or  twice  be- 
fore. She  has  begun  to  suspect  that  he  does 
not  love  her  for  herself  alone." 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  her  colossal  conceit 
she  would  have  discovered  that  fact  about  six 
weeks  ago,"  I  remarked  calmly.  "Every  one 
else  who  has  seen  Ned  and  Helen  together 
for  five  minutes  has  understood  the  situation. 
He  isn't  a  bit'silly  either." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  replied  Princess 
with  equal  serenity.  "You  know,  my  dear, 
whenever  I  see  an  unmarried  woman  over 


i3a  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

thirty,  I  usually  wonder  what  all  the  men  who 
know  her  have  been  thinking  about  to  leave 
her  unappropriated;  but,  in  Miss  Bradford's 
case,  I  understood  it  perfectly.  She  is  al- 
most unendurable,  would  be  entirely  so,  if 
she  were  not  Helen's  aunt.  It  shows  the  ex- 
tent of  Ned's  earnestness  that  he  has  been 
able  to  treat  her  so  very  well,  and  to  look 
after  her  comfort  when  he  might  decently 
have  escaped.  Now,  my  child,  prepare  your- 
self; for  I'm  going  to  impose  a  penance  on 
each  of  us  two.  One  of  us  will  escort  the  fair 
and  learned  Minerva  to  some  highly  edifying 
place  each  day,  while  the  other  will  chaperon 
Helen  and  Ned  elsewhere.  Once  in  a  while, 
we'll  rest  and  reward  ourselves  by  joining 
forces,  and  all  going  for  a  drive  or  stroll  to- 
gether." 

"But  how  will  you  manage  to  divide  the 
company?" 

"The  lady  Minerva  is  obtuse ;  and,  as  you 
have  justly  observed,  conceited;  she  is  be- 
sides, chief  among  her  shortcomings  and  par- 
ent of  many,  utterly  lacking  in  any  sense  of 
humor.  We  will  ask  her  to  go  along  with 


IN  ENGLAND.  133 

us  and  explain  things,  we  will  have  disagree- 
ments as  to  whose  turn  it  is  to  enjoy  her  in- 
structions, and  we  will  each  develop  a  differ- 
ent hobby,  so  that  she  can  not  form  us  into 
a  class  of  two. 

"I  know  it  will  be  painful,  dear,"  answer- 
ing my  rueful  expression,  "especially  when 
her  explanations,  always  old  and  frequently 
incorrect,  attract  the  attention  of  every  one 
in  the  house ;  but  think  of  the  good  we  ex- 
pect to  accomplish." 

And  to  such  hypocrisy  and  subterfuge  did 
we  descend;  but  for  those  sins  we  need  not 
fear  punishment  in  the  hereafter;  they 
brought  retribution  with  them,  daily  and 
hourly. 

When  one  goes  to  the  British  Museum  (un- 
accompanied by  a  Miss  Bradford)  one  can 
pretend  to  be  Dorothy  Carteret,  or  any  other 
delightful  young  woman  given  to  haunting 
that  gathering-place  of  storied  ghosts.  Mere- 
ly to  ride  along  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus  and 
read  the  names  of  the  streets  is  a  joy  beyond 
belief.  Think  of  going  down  Chancery  Lane, 
and  thence  by  way  of  St.  Martin's  Lane  to 
Charing  Cross!  Is  it  not  all  delightfully 


i34  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Dickensey?  Then  to  ride  from  St.  John's 
Wood  to  the  East  India  Docks  through 
Clerkenwell,  Mile  End  Road,  and  the  Poplar 
Road,  why,  it  is  traveling  from  Bulwer  Lyt- 
ton  and  D'Israeli  to  Besant,  in  the  most  inter- 
esting fashion  imaginable. 

By  taking  a  seat  toward  the  front  on  the 
omnibus-roof,  and  bestowing  a  few  coppers 
on  the  driver,  the  explorer  may  gain  much 
valuable  information.  Some  of  it  is  liable  to 
frequent  repetition.  I  have  had  Apsley 
House  pointed  out  to  me  seven  times  in  the 
course  of  one  day  and  evening;  but  this 
serves  to  impress  valuable  knowledge  upon 
the  mind.  One  also  learns  during  the  drive, 
if  he  puts  his  questions  skillfully,  a  great  deal 
about  that  interesting  and  important  subject, 
"how  the  other  half  lives." 

There,  are  countless  fascinating,  ways  of 
becoming  acquainted  with  London.  One  may 
trace  out  the  Roman  city  with  the  aid  of  Be- 
sant; then,  under  the  same  wise  and  kindly 
guidance,  the  Saxon  town,  following  the  old 
wall  around  what  is  still  "the  city,"  as  distinct 
from  the  rest  of  the  metropolis  as  the  "town" 


IN  ENGLAND.  135 

of  the  ancient  Greeks  from  the  "Lower 
Town;"  or  one  may  dig  into  ecclesiastical 
history,  collating  and  comparing  the  annals 
of  the  many  ancient  churches.  One  may  fol- 
low Dickens  about  from  Camberwell  to  to 
the  Borough  Road;  or  dwell  in  Brixton 
with  "Edna  Avail's"  excellent  bourgeoisie; 
strengthen  his  impressions  of  mediaeval  life 
and  manners  by  hours  spent  in  the  Guild  Hall 
and  in  the  Record  Office  where  lies  the 
mighty  Domesday  Book;  or,  delight  of  de- 
lights, may  revel  in  the  old  volumes  that  are, 
in  Yankee  phrase,  "corded  up"  along  Holy- 
well  Street  and  Paternoster  Row.  What  a 
paradise  for  the  booklover  of  limited  means. 
Here  one  may  choose  from  the  entire  body 
of  British  verse,  drama,  fiction  and  history, 
not  to  mention  a  goodly  number  of  works 
from  over-sea;  he  may  make  selection  among 
Latin  volumes  of  all  sizes  and  periods,  to- 
gether with  enlivening  works  on  theology 
and  medicine.  Like  a  certain  place  mention- 
ed by  our  old  friend,  P.  Vergilius  Maro, 
"Bookseller's  Row,"  alias  Holywell  St...  is,  to 


136  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

a  certain  class  of  persons,  easy  of  access  but 
very  hard  to  leave. 

Nor  is  Holywell  the  only  locality  which 
tempts  persons  of  the  class  referred  to.  There 
are  attractive  shops  in  Southampton  Row,  in 
Museum  Street  and  the  alleys  leading  there- 
from, where  one  may  spend  many  a  happy 
hour  and  part  cheerfully  with  much  coin  of 
the  realm. 

Princess  and  I  have  a  ceremony  known  as 
"gloating,"  which  we  perform,  like  the  two 
brothers  in  the  song,  "whenever  we  see  fit." 
This  celebration  has  nothing  to  do  with  either 
sun,  moon,  or  signs  of  the  zodiac ;  it  is  wholly 
dependent  upon  our  success  in  gathering  me- 
mentoes of  our  stay  in  the  various  places  that 
'    have  attracted  our  wandering  feet.  The  meth- 
od of  procedure  is  to  spread  out  upon  the 
table  or  the  bed,  preferably  the  latter,  as  af- 
fording a  greater  superficial  area,  the  spoils 
which  we  have  gathered.    Then  we  comment 
upon  and  rejoice  over  each  article,  anon  hug- 
ging ourselves  and  each  other,  or  performing 
an  impromptu  ballet,  as  we  recall  some  satis- 


S 


IN  ENGLAND.  137 

fying  or  interesting  circumstances  connected 
with  the  various  purchases. 

The  collections  are  varied ;  they  consist  of 
photographs,  old  engravings,  casts,  bits  of 
marble,  jewelry — in  small  quantities — carved 
wood,  rude  prints  illustrative  of  local  life  and 
customs,  gloves,  shell  combs  and  pins,  cam- 
eos, scraps  of  lace,  and  old  books. 

Our  joy  is  tempered  in  these  later  years  by 
thoughts  of  the  New  York  Custom  House. 
After  our  first  visit  to  Europe,  I  carried  home 
a  large  valise  full  of  books,  declared  the  same 
in  all  frankness,  and  was  permitted  to  depart 
in  peace,  carrying  my  treasures  with  me,  with- 
out fine  or  penalty  imposed;  but  now,  alas, 
times  have  changed ;  there  hath  arisen  in  the 
land  a  prophet  called  Dingley,  bearing  an 
ominous  "bill,"  and  together  they  have  de- 
stroyed the  peace  of  the  traveler.  Books 
whose  copyrights,  if  any  they  ever  had,  have 
long  since  expired,  wood-cuts  whose  money 
value  is  absolutely  nil  are  alike  contraband  in 
the  eyes  of  the  minions  of  the  law;  and  the 
policy  of  protection  becometh  a  stench  in  the 
nostrils  of  the  returning  student. 


138  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

The  officials  in  Philadelphia  are,  as  a  rule, 
milder  of  manner  and  more  courteous  of 
speech  than  their  brethren  in  New  York. 
Yet,  even  in  the  Quaker  City,  I  saw  an  ama- 
teur photographer  mulcted  of  twenty-seven 
dollars  duty  on  negatives  which  he  had  made 
abroad,  every  bit  of  his  material  having  been 
purchased  in  America  before  leaving.  Prob- 
ably he  was  paying  duty  on  the  European 
sunlight  of  which  he  had  made  such  free  use. 
This  may  have  been  law,  but  it  was  neither 
justice  nor  common  sense.  However,  our 
"infant  industries"  must  be  protected;  and, 
under  circumstances  like  these,  one  has  only 
to  pay  the  amount  assessed  or  leave  his  pos- 
sessions on  the  dock. 

I  looked  on  in  wonder  at  the  incident  re- 
corded above;  ancfr,  when  the  matter  had 
been  settled,  asked  the  victim's  wife: 

"How  did  Dr.  A.  happen  to  have  that 
amount  left?  Why,  if  I  were  compelled  to 
pay  any  such  sum  as  duty,  I  should  be  under 
the  necessity  of  walking  home." 

The  lady  smiled  faintly,  as  she  answered : 

"O,   the   Doctor   never  would   have   that 


IN  ENGLAND.  139 

amount  left.  I  had  put  aside  a  little,  in  case 
of  emergency." 

Such  a  blessing  is  a  thrifty  wife.  Princess 
looked  at  me  significantly  as  she  made  a  note 
of  the  incident  for  future  use,  i.  e.:  to  terror- 
ize me  when  I  am  absolutely  bent  upon  buy- 
ing inconvenient  articles. 

But  this  is  wandering  a  long  way  from  Lon- 
don; and,  truth  to  tell,  we  seldom  allow  the 
Custom  House  cloud  to  settle  over  us  very 
heavily  before  we  have  passed  the  Quaran- 
tine Station.  What  is  the  use  of  worrying 
about  duties  till  we  know  whether  there  is 
small-pox  in  the  steerage  or  cholera  between 
decks  ?  Once  in  a  way,  Princess  does  invoke 
the  cloud,  when  I  am  thinking  of  negotiating 
for  some  such  small  matter  as  the  Elgin  Mar- 
bles, the  carved  wood  of  the  Hotel  de  Cluny, 
the  bed-room  furniture  of  the  Pitti  Palace, 
or  a  choice  bit  of  Gobelin  tapestry. 

I  am  told  that  it  is  not  considered  "good 
form"  in  London  to  visit  the  British  Museum 
or  the  Tower,  and  that  many  members  of  the 
aristocracy  have  never  seen  either.  Which 
shows  that  persons  who  sacrifice  on  the  altar 


140  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

of  "good  form"  miss  much  of  the  joy  of  liv- 
ing. But  then  it  is  quite  likely  that  they 
would  not  enjoy  the  society  of  the  Pharaohs, 
or  of  the  Kings  of  Nineveh,  or  find  deep 
pleasure  in  contemplating  the  drapery  of  Ca- 
lirrhoe.  This  goddess  may  or  may  not  have 
had  a  beautiful  face,  but  her  figure,  as  here 
represented,  is  a  delight  to  the  eye,  and  one 
gets  the  impression  that  she  knew  how  to 
wear  her  clothes. 

As  for  the  horses  on  the  other  pediment  of 
the  Parthenon,  in  looking  at  them,  I  am 
obliged  to  stand  with  my  hands  behind  me, 
lest  the  desire  to  pat  their  heads  where  the 
veins  stand  out  in  such  life-like  fashion, 
should  overcome  my  respect  for  the  polite 
placard  which  requests  the  visitor  to  refrain 
from  touching  the  objects  displayed. 

Miss  Minerva  came  near  spoiling  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  for  me.  Under  her  guidance,  I 
had  elected  to  study  the  Egyptian  monu- 
ments; but,  according  to  her,  I  always  ad- 
mired the  wrong  things,  or  the  right  things 
for  the  wrong  reasons;  besides,  she  insisted 
upon  telling  me,  in  high  metallic  tones,  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  141 

great  many  things  that  I  did  not  wish  to 
know,  about  those  old  Egyptian  heroes,  who 
sit  so  calmly  with  their  hands  resting  on  their 
knees.  The  chief  attraction  about  these 
sculptures  is  their  suggestion  of  remoteness 
and  mystery,  which  is  all  destroyed,  or  at  least 
disturbed,  when  Miss  Bradford  begins  to 
pour  out  dates  and  dimensions. 

But  Princess  took  pity  on  me  once,  and  I 
came  down  for  a  solitary  peep  at  the  Antin- 
ous,  the  Clytie,  the  Daphne,  and  those  charm- 
ing baby  cupids  in  the  Roman  room;  and, 
one  rainy  day,  Miss  Minerva  had  neuralgia, 
and  I  stole  away  and  spent  a  whole  forenoon 
in  peace  with  the  Elgin  Marbles. 

We  have  agreed  among  ourselves  that 
sometime  we  will  apply  for  permission  to 
lodge  a  few  weeks  in  Westminster  Abbey; 
for  only  thus  could  one  learn  to  know  the 
dear  old  place.  Ned  has  promised  to  look 
up  some  good  restaurants  in  the  neighbor- 
hood where  we  may  take  refuge  when  bitten 
by  hunger;  and  we  will  explore  till  we  are 
satisfied. 

Here  one   seems  to  have  roots  running 


142  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

down  deep  into  the  soil.  The  American 
moves  about  among  the  old  memorials,  not 
at  all  with  the  feeling  of  an  alien,  but  rather 
with  that  of  one  who  has  just  come  into  pos- 
session of  a  piece  of  ancestral  property,  beau- 
tiful, interesting,  sacred,  and  his  own  by  un- 
questioned title. 

Longfellow  seems  perfectly  at  home  beside 
Dryden;  and  it  is  entirely  a  family  matter, 
when  we  sit  down  before  the  tomb  of  Chau- 
cer, with  his  shrewd,  kindly  face  looking  at 
us  from  the  window  above,  Browning  and 
Tennyson  lying  near,  and  the  busts  and  stat- 
ues of  the  members,  great  and  small,  of  the 
brotherhood  of  letters  crowding  all  about. 
So  much  is  it  our  affair  that  we  find  it  hard 
to  forgive  the  sinner  who  spelled  Ben  Jon- 
son's  name  with  a  superfluous  h.  (How  very 
English !) 

I  fear  pious  Edward  would  think  that  his 
minster  had  been  perverted  from  its  original 
purpose  as  a  place  of  the  worship  of  God  to  a 
building  for  the  glorifying  of  men.  This,  too, 
despite  the  daily  service.  The  Pantheon  at 
Paris  has  been  formally  secularized  and  set 


IN  ENGLAND.  143 

apart  for  perpetuating  the  memories  of  the 
departed  heroes,  bards,  and  sages  of  the  na- 
tion. Westminster  Abbey  is  still  called  a 
church !  yet  I  doubt  whether  it  impresses  the 
visitor  as  a  whit  more  ecclesiastical  in  char- 
acter than  its  neighbor  across  the  channel.  It 
is  not  for  a  church  service  that  one  goes  to 
Westminster  Abbey.  Frankly,  on  a  week- 
day, the  service  is  regarded  as  rather  an  in- 
terruption to  the  serious  business  of  the  visit. 
From  the  Lady  Chapel  to  the  towers,  and 
from  the  door  of  the  north  transept  to  the 
farthest  cloister,  every  inch  of  the  massive 
pile  is  crowded  with  mementoes  of  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  history  of  England.  It  is  to 
read  this  history  in  monument,  window,  and 
carven  stone,  that  one  comes  to  the  Abbey; 
and,  before  setting  his  foot  inside,  the  visitor 
should  steep  himself,  long  and  thoroughly,  in 
Addison,  Irving,  Hawthorne,  Farrar,  Stanley, 
the  old  chronicles,  any  one  and  every  one  who 
has  said  anything  worth  while  about  the 
building.  Once  admitted,  he  should  avoid 
vain  babblers,  official  and  otherwise,  as  he 
would  a  pestilence,  and  keep  eye,  mind  and 


144  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

heart  open  for  what  the  church  itself  has  to 
tell  him. 

What  an  entirely  new  view  of  Henry  VII 
is  conveyed  by  the  chapel  which  bears  his 
name.  We  remember  him  chiefly  as  a  wily 
politician,  most  canny  in  regard  to  the  expen- 
diture of  money.  Yet,  in  all  England,  there 
is  little  architecture  so  richly  ornamented  as 
that  of  this  chapel.  Does  not  this  suggest 
that  he  was  aesthetic  by  choice,  and  niggard- 
ly from  necessity  only  ?  Something  like  this, 
Greene  has  told  us ;  but  the  testimony  of  the 
stone  is  more  convincing. 

How  one  forgets  all  the  unpleasant  traits 
of  James  I,  his  pompous  manners,  his  pedant- 
ry, his  cowardice  while  one  stands  beside  the 
cradle-tomb  of  the  baby  Princess  Sophia. 
Grand  as  is  the  minster  church,  it  emphasizes 
in  some  subtle  way  the  human  and  not  the 
official  side  of  those  who  have  built  it  or  lie 
buried  in  it ;  and  causes  one  to  forget  differ- 
ences of  rank  and  flight  of  time,  and  remem- 
ber only  the  strong,  deep-lying  bond  of  kin- 
ship. 

When  it  came  my  turn  to  be  chaperone  I 


IN  ENGLAND.  145 

spent  several  happy  days  with  my  charges,  in 
rambling  about  Fleet  Street,  past  the  shop  of 
Izaak  Walton,  into  courts  leading  to  the 
"Mitre"  and  "Ye  Olde  Cheshire  Cheese," 
where  Johnson  and  the  other  giants  were 
wont  to  congregate,  and  Samuel  laid  down 
the  law  to  his  companions.  I  wonder  how 
the  latter  enjoyed  that  sort  of  thing.  It  must 
have  been  a  little  tiresome  to  be  listener  all 
the  time,  however  much  wisdom  one  heard. 
If  the  other  members  of  the  Literary  Club 
had  been  women,  I  venture  to  say,  they 
would,  sometimes  at  least,  have  given  way 
to  the  impulse  to  talk  all  at  once,  and  drown 
the  leader's  leonine  rumble  in  a  chorus  of 
shrill  treble.  This  would  have  been  excellent 
discipline  for  Dr.  Samuel. 

We  enjoyed,  each  for  our  own  reasons, 
walking  along  the  street  looking  at  the  book- 
sellers windows  and  at  the  wares  displayed 
in  the  other  shops.  (I  can  not  make  oath  that 
my  companions  devoted  their  attention  un- 
reservedly to  the  shop  windows ;  but  being  a 
discreet  duenna,  I  did  so).  The  display  here 
is  so  entirely  different  from  what  one  sees  a^t 

10 


i46  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

home ;  and  it  is  so  very  wholesome  for  us  to 
learn  that  people  may  live  and  prosper,  while 
doing  things  in  ways  totally  different  from 
our  own. 

It  is  always  well,  when  in  Holywell  Street, 
to  take  a  little  peep  into  St.  Clement  Danes, 
the  church  whose  bells,  according  to  the  fa- 
miliar nursery  rhyme,  discourse  sweet  music 
about  "oranges  and  lemons."  There  is  some- 
thing very  attractive  about  both  this  church 
and  its  neighbor,  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  each 
standing  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  busy  street, 
the  tides  of  life  and  trade  surging  by  on  either 
hand.  As  monuments  of  an  elder  time,  they 
arouse  an  interest  I  am  always  unable  to  feel 
in  St.  Paul's.  When  I  have  seen  the  tombs 
of  Chinese  Gordon,  of  Wellington,  Nelson, 
and  Dr.  Donne,  and  recovered  a  little  from 
the  shock  of  finding  the  monument  to  Corn- 
wallis  in  a  place  of  honor,  the  real  power  of 
St.  Paul's  is  exhausted.  Is  is  very  big  and 
magnificent,  but  conveys  the  impression  that 
it  was,  as  the  children  say,  "done  on  pur- 
pose," while  the  older  churches  are  a  spon- 
taneous growth. 


IN  ENGLAND.  147 

Another  attraction  at  St.  Clement  Danes  is 
the  pew  often  occupied  by  Johnson,  in  which 
with  some  expenditure  of  diplomacy — and 
coppers — one  may  sit  down  and  meditate  for 
a  time. 

Farther  down,  near  the  entrance  to  Great 
Farringdon  street,  a  wide  thoroughfare  which 
runs,  during  a  part  of  its  course,  below  the 
level  of  the  neighboring  ways,  is  the  church 
of  St.  Bride's,  which  is  well  worth  a  visit. 
It  is  a  bit  of  Wren's  choicest  work,  and  con- 
tains the  tomb  of  no  less  a  person  than  Sam- 
uel Richardson. 

If  he  now  knows  anything  of  the  fate  of 
his  body,  it  must  seem  passing  strange  to  him 
that  his  outworn  mansion  should  be  falling  to 
decay  in  a  spot  so  secluded.  For  Samuel, 
when  he  dwelt  in  that  mouldering  tabernacle, 
was  fond  of  the  social  side  of  life,  and  was  the 
recipient  of  much  attention  from  the  fair  sex. 
Does  he  smile  now,  I  wonder,  recalling  that 
marvellous  creature — Sir  Charles  Grandison? 
And  what  does  he  think  of  the  lovely  Harriet 
Byron?  What  a  commotion  her  appearance 
unfailingly  created!  Helen  of  Troy  was 


148  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

scarcely  more  dangerous  to  the  peace  of  man- 
kind. 

Is  it  not  strange  that  both  Richardson  and 
his  readers  should  have  regarded  Pamela  as 
a  moral  work?  "Pamela,  or,  Virtue  Reward- 
ed." In  reality,  "Mr.  B."  was  the  person  re- 
warded, and  that  with  a  wife  far  beyond  his 
deserts.  This,  I  maintain ;  but  Princess  avers 
that  I  am  entirely  wrong,  and  that  a  husband 
of  any  kind  was  a  reward  for  a  poor  girl; 
that,  therefore,  the  title  is  perfectly  correct. 
Ned,  however,  agrees  with  me,  which,  consid- 
ering the  length  of  time  I  spent  in  decipher- 
ing the  inscription  on  Richardson's  monu- 
ment the  afternoon  that  I  went  there  in  my 
capacity  of  chaperone,  is  only  proper  grati- 
tude on  his  part. 

Such  naive  pictures  of  English  social  con- 
ditions as  are  found  in  Richardson's  novels, 
together  with  the  revelations  made  by  Addi- 
son,  Steele,  and  Fielding,  are  likely  to  make 
a  reader  ask  himself  why  the  English  should 
assume  airs  of  superior  virtue,  when  discuss- 
ing French  morality. 

From  St.  Bride's  Church  we  go  on  into 


IN  ENGLAND.  149 

Great  Farrington  St.,  past  Congregational 
House,  a  memorial  to  the  dissenting  minis- 
ters who  gave  up  their  charges  under  the  Act 
of  Conformity.  Beyond  this  building,  we 
pass  the  Meat  Market,  a  view  of  which  is 
likely  to  convert  the  visitor  to  vegetarianism. 
Not  that  the  meat  does  not  appear  to  be 
good;  but  there  is  such  an  enormous  quan- 
tity of  it. 

A  little  farther  on,  we  find  ourselves  before 
the  Blue  Coat  School.  The  working  school 
is  soon  to  remove  to  the  country,  perhaps  has 
already  done  so;  but  the  old  buildings,  rich 
in  memories  of  Coleridge  and  Lamb,  ought 
always  to  remain  standing  here. 

The  Blue  Coat  boys  seem  to  have  realized 
that  they  were  honored  by  the  presence 
among  them  of  these  charity  students.  What 
a  pity  that  we  do  not  always  know  when  we 
are  in  the  best  society.  Schoolboys  come 
nearer  to  doing  so  than  most  other  persons. 

I  wonder  if  that  particular  generation  of 
schoolboys  at  Christ's  Hospital  was  a  more 
than  ordinarily  light-hearted  one.  Certainly 
the  influence  of  Charles  Lamb's  sweet  nature 


ISO  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ought  to  have  made  them  all  joyous  for  life. 
Blessed  are  the  cheerful,  for  they  make  sun- 
shine in  shady  places,  is  a  much  needed  beat- 
itude for  our  hurried  generation.  There  is 
no  other  virtue  that  better  repays  cultiva- 
tion; and  no  man  except  Stevenson  can  give 
us  so  many  valuable  hints  as  to  its  nature  and 
acquisition  as  that  sunniest  of  burdened  mor- 
tals, Charles  Lamb.  He  had  every  excuse  for 
discouragement  that  a  man  need  present; 
yet,  without  any  direct  preaching  on  the  sub- 
ject of  cheerfulness,  he  has  left  behind  him  a 
trail  of  kindly  light  to  help  us  find  our  way 
through  life's  dark  places. 

Lamb  was  an  out-and-out  Londoner,  living 
his  life  in  the  smoky  streets  of  the  old  city, 
spending  a  few  days  now  and  then  at  Brigh- 
ton or  Margate — resorts  loved  of  the  middle- 
class  of  his  native  town — finding  the  beauty 
and  poetry  of  life  on  the  crowded  pavements 
and  in  the  human  interests  about  him. 

One  happy  day  we  all  went  together  to  the 
Tower.  Fashionable  England,  I  am  told, 
does  not  visit  the  Tower.  However,  most  of 
the  English  who  emigrated  to  the  New  World 


IN  ENGLAND.  151 

were  of  the  middle  class;  and  we  still  have 
many  of  the  sensible  notions  of  the  intelligent 
citizens  and  country-folk,  who  made  a  king 
to  quake  upon  his  throne,  and  eventually  de- 
prived him  of  a  head  that  seemed  unfitted  for 
the  work  required  of  it.  Therefore,  to  us,  ad- 
mirers of  Raleigh,  Drake,  Frobisher,  and 
others  of  the  "men  of  Devon"  and  their  kind, 
as  well  as  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  Henry  How- 
ard, and  the  rest  of  "the  glorious  dynasty, 
heirs  of  the  block  and  axe,"  the  Tower  is  a 
treasure-house  of  associations.  The  crown- 
jewels,  with  all  their  gold  and  gems,  are  cheap 
in  comparison. 

I  wonder  if  the  thought  of  these  illustrious 
predecessors  did  not  bring  comfort  as  well  as 
warning  to  Henry  Laurens,  sometime  envoy 
from  the  revolted  colonies  to  His  Majesty 
George  the  Third,  an  unwelcome  envoy  who 
was  given  lodgings  at  the  charge  of  the  coun- 
try to  which  he  was  accredited  instead  of  at 
that  of  his  home  government.  How  would 
it  seem  now-a-days  to  be  a  prisoner  here? 
"Prisoner  in  the  Tower  of  London"  sounds 
mediaeval  even  for  Henry  Laurens  and  the 


152  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

times  of  George  III;  but  then  King  George 
was  obsessed  by  some  rather  mediaeval  no- 
tions. 

The  ancient  pile  seems  a  fortress,  and  a 
fortress  only ;  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  pleas- 
ure-loving Edward  IV  established  here,  with 
all  the  luxury  of  his  most  luxurious  court. 
It  is  hard  to  believe  that  even  hangings  of 
velvet  and  tapestry  could  convert  this  rough 
walled  building  into  a  palace. 

The  place  is  full  of  ghosts,  most  welcome 
and  interesting  ones,  entirely  suited  to  the  lo- 
cality. They  are  the  true  owners  of  His  Ma- 
jesty's Tower,  these  men  and  women,  so 
many  of  whose  stories,  so  far  as  mortals  ken, 
ended  here  on  Tower  Hill;  criminals  and 
martyrs,  men,  women,  and  children  even,  of 
every  age  and  degree.  How  they  throng 
about  us,  till  they  veil  even  the  glitter  of  the 
crown-jewels  and  the  whimsical  dress  of  the 
beef-eaters.  For  what  are  state  salt-cellars, 
the  imperial  diadem,  even  the  Koh-i-noor, 
compared  with  the  memories  of  those  whose 
blood  has  so  freely  watered  the  soil  of  a  care- 
less country? 


IN  ENGLAND.  153 

Finally,  we  cease  contemplating  the  old 
armor,  the  weapons  of  many  patterns,  and 
the  various  instruments  of  torture  wherewith 
it  was  the  custom  of 'our  pious  ancestors, 
through  much  agony  of  body,  to  drive  into 
the  fold  of  safety  the  wandering  souls  of  any 
poor  wights  whose  creed  differed  from  their 
own. 

Coming  out  into  the  Yard,  we  are  permit- 
ted once  more  to  resume  our  hand-bags  and 
detachable  pockets,  taken  from  us  when  we 
entered,  lest  they  might  contain  dynamite 
bombs  and  other  explosives  destined  for  the 
destruction  of  the  building. 

The  good-natured  policeman,  in  answer  to 
our  inquiries  about  the  nearest  way  to  Lon- 
don Bridge,  gives  us  minute  directions  about 
finding  King  William's  statue — "the  old 
king's  statter,"  he  says,  as  though  William 
were  of  yesterday.  From  this  point  the 
bridge  is  plainly  visible.  The  official  cautions 
us  against  Great  Tower  Street,  which  he 
agrees  with  us  is  nearer,  "but  pretty  rough." 

We  follow  his  directions  and  in  time  reach 
the  old  bridge.  It  is  not  so  very  old,  either; 


154  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

but  occupies  the  site  of  the  bridge  that  span- 
ned the  stream  in  the  days  when  Southwark 
was  a  remote  suburb  and  Westminster  a  coun- 
try village. 

We  shall  not  cross  this  morning,  as  we  are 
leaving  the  south  side  of  the  river  for  future 
visits.  After  two  or  three  false  starts  and 
some  altercation  with  persons  of  whom  we 
inquire  the  way  without  first  soothing  their 
tempers  by  an  application  of  copper,  we  find 
the  street  leading  to  the  Swan  Pier,  and  here 
we  take  a  penny  steamer  for  the  Temple. 

Princess  is  not  fond  of  steamers  at  any 
price.  However,  she  has  come  to  London  to 
see  everything  interesting  that  our  time  will 
allow ;  so  she  says  bravely : 

"Don't  look  at  me.  Look  at  the  water,  the 
embankment,  anything  that  interests  you. 
The  agony  can't  last  long." 

Nor  does  it.  We  reach  Temple  Pier,  when 
we  have  barely  had  time  to  learn  how  the 
smoke-stack  ducks  as  we  go  under  the 
bridges.  Princess,  despite  her  woe,  is  inter- 
ested in  this  proceeding.  She  always  wishes 
to  "shee  the  wheels  go  around." 


IN  ENGLAND.  155 

At  Temple  Pier  we  land  once  more;  and, 
as  it  is  nearly  noon,  we  decide  to  rest  and 
lunch  before  doing  any  more  visiting.  So, 
with  Ned  as  guide,  we  thread  various  narrow 
streets  leading  out  into  the  Strand ;  and  here 
at  a  quiet  restaurant,-  one  of  Ned's  favorite 
haunts,  we  sit  down  to  eat  a  substantial  Eng- 
lish luncheon.  We  take  plenty  of  time  about 
it,  resting  and  chatting;  and,  when  we  have 
finished,  return,  through  the  maze  by  which 
we  came,  to  the  Temple. 

Middle  Temple  has  a  beautiful  hall,  and 
one  is  glad  to  know  that  "Twelfth  Night" 
was,  once  at  least,  presented  in  such  sur- 
roundings; grateful,  too,  are  we  to  the 
slightly  muddled  old  gossip  Manningham 
who  has  preserved  for  us  this  precious  bit  of 
information,  like  the  "two  grains  of  wheat 
hid  in  two  bushels  of  chaff."  • 

We  hear  much  of  the  dignity  of  history  and 
some  of  her  devotees  feel  it  incumbent  upon 
them  to  speak  lightly  of  all  other  branches  of 
literature;  yet  these  scribbled  fecollections 
of  the  tipsy  lawyer,  the  diaries  of  Evelyn  and 
Pepys,  the  stray  letters  of  any  person  whatso- 


156  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ever  who  has  recorded  without  affectation 
what  he  really  saw  in  the  world  around  him — 
these  scraps  and  fragments  are  genuine  his- 
tory. 

Are  not  Tom  Pinch  and  pretty  Ruth  as 
real  as  any  figures  that  ever  walked  here, 
even  though  the  gentle  ghost  of  Lamb  flits 
through  the  halls  and  alleys,  and  the  dust 
that  once  housed  the  erratic  but  lovable  soul 
of  Oliver  Goldsmith  lie  somewhere  here- 
about; just  where,  no  one  can  say;  the  only 
thing  positively  known  about  the  matter  be- 
ing that  his  body  does  not  repose  under  his 
tombstone. 

This  state  of  affairs  is  quite  unconventional 
enough  to  suit  the  kind-hearted  Irishman.  I 
never  read  the  story  of  Goldsmith's  life  with- 
out a  pang  of  something  like  envy.  Think  of 
tramping  over  the  Continent,  fluting  one's 
way  from  village  to  village,  seeing  from  the 
inside  that  life  which  most  of  us  behold  only 
as  detached  spectators,  living  like  the  birds  of 
the  air,  beloved  of  dogs,  beggars  and  chil- 
dren. 

Truly  it  sounds  Arcadian,  though  doubt- 


IN  ENGLAND.  157 

less  it  had  a  squalid  side ;  and  one  asks  him- 
self how  a  man  of  the  sophistical  eighteenth 
century  managed  to  compass  such  a  holiday. 
Goldsmith  was  not  really  of  his  time ;  he  was 
a  forerunner  of  the  eccentric  group  of  the 
next  generation,  a  fitter  comrade  for  De 
Quincey  and  Coleridge  than  for  Burke  and 
Johnson. 

A  beautiful  place  is  the  round  Temple 
Church,  on  whose  pavement  lie  cross-legged 
the  effigies  of  certain  old  Crusaders,  suggest- 
ing in  the  faint  half-light  a  peace  they  never 
knew,  those  hard-headed  old  knights, 

"Who  laid  about  them  at  their  wills,  and  died." 

That  line  of  Tennyson's  is  a  wonderfully 
good  summary  of  the  life  of  a  mediaeval 
knight,  one  thinks  at  first ;  and  yet,  being  hu- 
man they  could  not  have  spent  all  their  time 
in  smiting  and  being  smitten;  they  must  oc- 
casionally, have  sat  down  to  rest  and  submit 
themselves  to  gentle  influences.  We  know 
they  went  to  church,  sometimes;  and  such 
quiet  figures  as  these  must  have  reminded 
the  fighters  that  to  everything  under  the  sun 


158  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

there  is  a  time,  and  to  them  also  would  come 
at  length  this  absolute  quiescence.  I  won- 
der what,  in  their  hearts,  the  restless  old  fel- 
lows really  expected  to  do,  when  by  dint  ol 
pilgrimages,  crusades,  and  masses  they 
should  have  secured  for  themselves  an  en- 
trance into  the  Heavenly  City.  It  is  hard  to 
believe  that  they  took  kindly  to  the  idea  of 
endlessly  playing  harps  and  singing  psalms. 
Yet  many  of  the  fighters  were  also  singers 
and  imprpvisers  of  verse;  so  it  is  possible 
that  they  were  more  resigned  than  the  pres- 
ent generation  to  the  thought  of  spending 
eternity  in  warbling  hymns.  The  modern  no- 
tion of  heaven  is  probably  best  expressed  by 
the  words  of  the  Revelator, 

"And  His  servants  shall  serve  Him." 

Over  in  the  garden  is  the  spot  where  grew 
the  white  and  red  roses  of  York  and  Lancas- 
ter— those  thorny  roses,  whose  fragrance 
provoked  strife.  The  contending  factions 
had  at  least  an  eye  to  the  picturesque  in 
choosing  their  badges.  Will  our  party  names 


IN  ENGLAND.  159 

and  insignia  carry  with  them  any  such  flavor 
of  romance  adown  the  next  four  centuries  ? 

We  wander  out  of  the  garden,  into  the 
Strand  once  more;  thence  by  way  of  St. 
Clement  Danes  and  Holywell  street,  through 
Bell's  Yard,  haunted  by  the  oddities  of 
"Bleak  House,"  on  into  Portugal  street  and 
the  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  into  whose  authen- 
ticity we  do  not  inquire  too  curiously. 

We  stray  along  through  Lincoln's  Inn 
Fields,  looking  at  the  house  which  is  said  to 
have  sheltered  the  original  of  Mr.  Tulking- 
horn.  We  walk  all  the  way  around  the  quiet 
square,  half  believing  that  we  shall  meet  Es- 
ther Summerson  and  her  charge,  or  possibly 
Dick,  Mr.  Woodcourt,  or  even  little  Miss 
Flite. 

After  dinner,  if  we  are  not  too  tired,  we 
will  go  to  the  theater  or  the  opera. 

These  early  days  of  July  present  many  dra- 
matic and  musical  feasts.  We  may  go  to  hear 
Bernhardt  in  "L'Aiglon;"  Melba,  Eames  and 
the  De  Reszkes  in  some  part  of  the  wonder- 
ful Niebelung  cycle  or  in  "Faust;"  or  we  may 
please  ourselves  with  a  play  of  Shakespeare's 


i6o  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

at  the  Lyceum  Theater,  given  by  Irving,  El- 
len Terry,  and  their  associated  artists. 

Would  that  we  might  see  them  in  "Becket" 
or  "Cymbeline."  However,  we  take  the  goods 
the  gods  provide,  listen  delightedly,  like  chil- 
dren off  for  a  holiday,  to  "The  Merchant  of 
Venice,"  "The  Bells,"  or  "Robespierre,"  and 
go  home  to  dream  all  night  of  the  enchanted 
land  that  we  have  visited. 

The  first  time  that  we  went  to  the  theater 
with  Ned,  we  came  near  having  a  family  jar, 
as  he  was  scandalized  at  the  idea  of  our  sit- 
ting elsewhere  than  in  a  box,  and  was  deter- 
mined to  buy  all  the  tickets.  At  last,  we  suc- 
ceeded in  convincing  him  that  we  had  with  us 
no  costumes  suitable  for  a  box  party ;  and  we 
four  women,  being  for  once  in  entire  har- 
mony, insisted  upon  a  "Dutch  treat."  The 
young  gentleman  being  told,  politely  but 
firmly,  that  he  might  go  with  us  on  those 
terms  or  not  at  all,  finally  yielded,  and  we  sat 
in  the  amphitheater  at  two-and-six-pence 
each.  We  found  ourselves  among  quiet,  at- 
tentive people  who  had  really  conre  to  hear 
the  music;  and,  in  consequence,  did  not 


IN  ENGLAND.  161 

drown  the  orchestra  or  the  voices  by  inane 
conversation.  Sometimes  a  good-natured 
Londoner  pointed  out  to  the  strangers  from 
over  the  sea  the  celebrities  in  the  boxes  be- 
low; a  statesman,  a  belle,  or  some  scion  of 
royalty. 

When  the  play  is  over,  we  hasten  to  catch 
an  omnibus  that  shall  land  us  near  Southamp- 
ton Row,  along  which  now  quiet  street  we 
hasten  toward  Queen  Square.  Here,  at  area 
doors,  sentimental  maids  are  standing  with 
"their  young  men,"  in  attitudes  indicative  of 
all  degrees  of  mutual  affection;  all  entirely 
free  from  self-consciousness  or  anything  sug- 
gesting that  the  "spooners"  realize  the  pres- 
ence of  any  other  human  beings  on  the  same 
planet.  There  may  be  as  much  demonstra- 
tion of  affection,  as  much  embracing,  oscula- 
tion, and  squeezing  of  hands  at  back  gates,  in 
railway  coaches,  on  the  tops  of  omnibuses,  or 
in  parks  in  America;  but  I  have  never  hap- 
pened to  observe  it,  although  I  have  wander- 
ed home  from  the  opera  at  as  late  an  hour  in 
Chicago  as  in  London.  I  have  seen  a  man 

holding  the  hand  of  his  female  companion, 
11 


162  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

in  the  sight  of  all  the  passengers,  on  the  top 
of  a  coach  during  all  the  journey  from  Loch 
Katrine  to  Callender.  He  did  the  same,  se- 
rene and  unabashed,  as  though  he  had  long 
arrears  of  that  kind  of  thing  to  make  up,  and 
were  utilizing  his  vacation  for  the  purpose, 
deliberately  and  with  malice  aforethought. 
There  is  in  the  exercise  which  Princess  has 
named  "The  British  act"  something  so  stolid 
and  matter-of-fact  ,  that  it  seems  to  the  Yan- 
kee onlooker  ludicrous  rather  than  lyric. 

We  went  out  to  Hampton  Court  by  omni- 
bus, and  came  home  in  a  most  leisurely  way 
on  a  river  steamer  dependent  upon  the  tide 
for  sufficient  water  to  float  her.  That  is  to 
say,  Ned  and  Helen,  with  myself  as  chaperon, 
came  home  by  water;  Princess  and  Miss 
Bradford  returned  by  train,  and  spent  the 
evening  in  agonies  of  anxiety  over  our  non- 
appearance.  We  left  Kingston  before  they 
did,  at  half-past  five;  and,  as  we  did  riot 
reach  home  until  after  ten,  there  was  some 
excuse  for  their  uneasiness. 

On  the  way  out,  as  we  drew  near  to  Twick- 
enham, we  heard  the  sounds  of  a  barrel-or- 


IN  ENGLAND.  163 

gan.  Coming  nearer,  we  discovered  several 
ragged  children  dancing  to  the  lively  strains. 
Presently  a  young  man  immaculately  dress- 
•ed,  wearing  a  tall  silk  hat  and  a  Prince  Albert 
coat  with  a  rose  in  the  button-hole,  joined 
the  youngsters;  and,  when  we  looked  back 
as  we  turned  the  corner,  was  footing  it  as 
gayly  as  any  urchin  among  them.  This  pro- 
ceeding aroused  my  envy;  it  was  so  natural, 
so  entirely  innocent,  and  so  utterly  impossi- 
ble for  me,  a  respectable  spinster.  It  is  that 
sort  of  thing  which  makes  me  feel  that  priv- 
ileges are  unequally  divided  between  men  and 
women.  Ned  seeing  my  wistful  looks,  offer- 
ed to  descend  from  the  omnibus  with  me  and 
lend  his  countenance  and  moral  support 
while  I  "tripped  the  light  fantastic."  But 
even  thus  encouraged,  my  heart  failed  me. 

One  gives  a  thought  to  brilliant,  unhappy 
Pope,  on  passing  through  Twickenham;  but 
begins  already  to  watch  for  the  spreading 
horse-chestnuts  of  Bushey  Park,  a  truly  ideal 
spot. 

Hampton  Court,  aside  from  the  huge 
grape  vine,  the  Raphael  cartoons,  and  the 


164  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

portraits,  is  rather  uninteresting.  One  wear- 
ies of  successions  of  best  chambers  with  state 
beds  and  gorgeous  hangings;  and  for  the 
cartoons  one  needs  far  more  time  than  we 
care  to  give  them  to-day.  The  portraits 
grow  monotonous  after  a  little,  and  one  be- 
comes aware  of  a  desire  to  organize  a  society 
whose  object  shall  be  to  provide  fichus  for 
the  decolletees  beauties  depicted  by  Lely  and 
Kneller. 

Now  Windsor  is  in  every  way  more  satis- 
factory. In  the  first  place,  it  looks  like  a 
fortress-castle,  while  all  its  surroundings  are 
picturesque.  One  may  expect  to  see  old  ac- 
quaintances anywhere,  under  the  shadow  of 
the  grey  walls  that  shoulder  themselves  into 
sight,  dwarfing  the  town  into  insignificance; 
in  the  tower  where  Jamie  Stuart  watched  his 
ladye  in  the  court  below,  and  then  wrote  mel- 
odious verse  about  her;  in  the  curfew  tower, 
in  the  chapels,  in  the  park,  and  across  the 
bridge  at  Eton. 

Windsor,  like  most  other  English  villages, 
is  worth  all  the  trouble  one  takes  to  get  there 
on  trains  that  never  appear  to  start  for  any 


IN  ENGLAND.  165 

definite  point,  and  about  whose  "connec- 
tions" (this  is  distinctly  American)  with 
other  trains,  English  officials  are,  on  princi- 
ple, strictly  non-committal. 

Even  if  the  castle  were  not  rich  in  the 
memories  of  at  least  nine  centuries,  and  filled 
with  treasures  of  art,  there  would  still  be  a 
chance  of  searching  for  traces  of  Dame 
Quickly  and  her  friends  and  sweet  Anne 
Page;  there  would  still  be  beautiful  Eton 
Chapel;  and,  failing  all  these,  one  could  go 
to  Stoke  Pogis  churchyard,  or  make  his  way 
to  Horton,  thence  to  view  Windsor  as  Mil- 
ton saw  it  in  his  high-hearted  youth. 

But  Windsor  has  its  own  charm,  and  all 
these  other  glories  added  thereunto.  Hence- 
forth all  stories  of  knight  and  ladye  fair,  of 
court  intrigue  and  deeds  of  derring-do,  will 
have  as  their  background  a  castle  something 
like  Windsor. 

We  really  had  time  to  see  and  enjoy  every- 
thing, including  "Ruben's  room,  with  Rube 
himself  up  over  the  door,"  as  we  were  in- 
formed by  a  functionary  with  a  nasal  twang  ( 
that  brought  up  memories  of  Cape  Cod.    We 


166  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

reveled  in  recollections  of  that  visit  for 
months  afterward;  for  we  walked  sedately 
about  the  beautiful  rooms  and  even  paused 
some  minutes  at  a  time  before  objects  of  spe- 
cial interest,  not  being  driven  rapidly  from 
one  entrance  to  the  other,  like  leaves  before 
a  November  blast.  Neither  were  our 
thoughts  distracted  by  anxious  questionings 
of  ourselves  and  each  other  as  to  the  proper 
amount  to  be  given  in  "tips;"  for  it  is  writ- 
ten that  gratuities  to  attendants  are  strictly 
forbidden.  Herein  we  found  further  cause 
for  respecting  the  Majesty  of  England. 

As  Miss  Bradford  and  Helen  did  not  know 
when  they  might  cross  the  ocean  again,  they 
had  from  time  to  time  discussed  the  feasibil- 
ity of  spending  a  fortnight  on  the  Continent. 
After  much  consultation  of  guide-books  and 
many  visits  to  tourist  offices,  they  had  de- 
cided upon  going  by  way  of  Canterbury  to 
Dover  and  thence  to  Ostend.  They  would 
spend  a  few  days  in  Antwerp  and  Brussells 
and  then  go  to  Cologne,  leaving  that  city  for 
a  journey  up  the  Rhine  as  far  as  Heidel- 
berg, and  thence  by  rail  to  Paris. 


IN  ENGLAND.  167 

I  had  a  wild  throb  of  excitement  and 
thought  of  abandoning  all  previous  plans 
when  Paris  was  mentioned,  but  Princess  was 
firm,  and  Miss  Bradford  and  her.  niece  set 
out  alone. 

"Do  you  suppose  Ned  will  have  business 
in  Paris  early  next  week?  And  how  do  you 
think  Miss  Bradford  will  receive  him?" 

"He  will  certainly  have  business  there," 
answered  Princess  to  whom  I  propounded 
the  above  questions;  "and,  by  the  time  he 
arrives,  Miss  Minerva  will  doubtless  be  glad 
to  see  some  one  who  can  speak  a  little  de- 
cent French. 

"Doesn't  she  speak  French?  I'm  sure  I 
heard  her  say  she  did." 

"She  thinks  she  does,  but  it  is  of  'the  schole 
of  Stratford-atte-Browe ;'  while  Helen,  who 
is  a  fair  German  scholar,  frankly  confesses 
that  she  never  got  beyond  reading  French. 
Miss  Bradford  is  so  sure  she  knows  every- 
thing and  can  do  everything  in  the  best  way, 
that  she  is  bound  to  try  to  set  the  French 
government  or  the  municipal  authorities  of 


168  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Paris  right  on  some  point,  and  she  will  sorely 
need  help." 

"Yes,"  I  agreed,  "you  are  right;  if,  before 
Ned  appears  the  good  lady  gets  into  two  or 
three  scrapes  owing  to  her  ignorance  of  the 
language  and  her  general  bumptiousness,  she 
will  be  ready  to  welcome  him  as  an  angel  of 
light." 

"Yes,  Neddy  speaks  the  lingo  exceedingly 
well.  Old  Professor  Dupres  managed  to 
hammer  the  language  into  our  heads  and  fas- 
ten it  to  our  tongues,  if  he  did  have  a  villain- 
ous temper  and  emphasize  his  instructions  by 
throwing  inkstands  and  rulers  at  us." 

"Besides,  the  laddie  has  sense  and  a  cool 
head,"  I  added,  "it  is  to  be  hoped  the  fates 
will  be  propitious  in  choosing  the  time  of  his 
arrival." 

One  day,  after  Miss  Bradford  and  Helen 
had  left  us,  Princess  and  I  started  for  a  long 
day's  ramble.  We  took  our  luncheon  of  bis- 
cuit, fresh  fruit,  and  cheese,  neatly  tied  up  in 
paper  and  deposited  in  the  netted  bag  which 
serves  as  base  of  supplies  and  trophy-case  on 
these  excursions.  The  bag  is  often  rather 


IN  ENGLAND.  169 

limp  when  we  set  forth ;  but,  ere  we  return  at 
nightfall,  has  grown  as  interesting  as  a  boy's 
pocket;  and  we  are  ourselves  often  surprised, 
in  emptying  the  receptacle,  at  sight  of  the 
varied  treasures  we  have  accumulated. 

We  spent  this  day  in  the  heart  of  old  Lon- 
don. We  took  an  omnibus  down  High  Hoi- 
born  (anglais  'Igh  'Obun)  landing  near  the 
Mansion  House.  Thence  we  found  our  way 
about  the  crooked  streets  to  Bow  Church — 
(St.  Mary-le-Bow)  another  bit  of  Wren's 
work.  This  visit  we  made  in  honor  of  Dick 
Whittington  and  his  cat;  but  although  the 
crypt  was  an  interesting  bit  of  -early  architec- 
ture, the  bells  were  silent  regarding  our  fu- 
ture. 

We  followed  tortuous  paths  through  Lit- 
tle Britain  to  the  Church  of  St.  Bartholomew 
the  Great,  which  is  near  to  Smithfield.  I 
never  know  how  I  reach  this  edifice,  probably 
with  the  exception  of  St.  John's  chapel  in  the 
tower,  the  oldest  church  in  London.  Ac- 
cordingly, each  visit  has  the  fresh  joy  of  orig- 
inal discovery.  The  church  is  so  enclosed  by 
tall  buildings,  that,  until  fairly  in  its  yard,  one 


i;o  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

hardly  realizes  its  nearness.  It  is  one  of  the 
few  things  about  which  the  nearly  omnis- 
cient London  policeman  does  not  always 
give  clear  directions. 

We  sat  down  for  a  time  in  the  cool,  dark 
crypt,  to  rest  our  eyes  and  steady  our  nerves 
with  the  sight  of  the  Norman  arches  and  the 
tomb  of  the  versatile  founder  of  the  church, 
the  priory,  and  the  hospital.  What  a  chequer- 
ed life  he  led,  this  mediaeval  adventurer; 
fighting  with  Hereward  the  wake  against  the 
too  successful  William,  then  becoming  a  min- 
strel and  dependent  upon  William's  son ;  and, 
finally,  ending  his  days  as  prior  of  the  mon- 
astery that  he  had  founded.  What  a  ro- 
mance is  here,  could  we  only  disentangle  the 
interwoven  threads. 

Leaving  this  torso  of  a  once  great  eccle- 
siastical foundation,  we  go  for  a  time  to  wan- 
der about  Smithfield  Market,  trying  to  realize 
that  just  here  were  burned  those  martyrs 
whose  fate  has  caused  Mary  Tudor  to  come 
down  to  posterity  with  such  a  sinister  epithet 
prefixed  to  her  name. 

Poor,   unhappy  woman,   whom  hard  fate 


IN  ENGLAND.  171 

called  to  a  throne.  How  far  more  content 
had  she  been  to  retire  to  a  convent  and  spend 
her  time  in  the  practice  of  those  religious 
rites  to  which  she  attached  so  much  import- 
ance. Despite  her  cruelties,  Mary  is  more 
to  be  pitied  than  blamed — a  woman  who  had 
no  girlhood  and  no  friends. 

We  take  a  look  at  St.  Bartholomew's  Hos- 
pital, still  one  of  the  most  important  institu- 
tions of  the  kind  in  all  London;  feast  our 
eyes  for  a  few  minutes  on  the  exterior  of  the 
building  that  was  once  Charterhouse  School, 
a  fortunate  institution  that  numbers  among 
its  children  noisy,  rough,  yet  lovable  Dick 
Steele;  Addison,  the  sedate  and  polished; 
and  their  biographer,  who  has  made  the  eigh- 
teenth century  live  again,  our  guide  through 
Vanity  Fair,  satirical  yet  kindly  Thackeray, 
whose  laughter  often  lies  so  close  to  tears. 

Still  further  on  in  the  maze,  near  the  old 
Jewish  quarter,  and  bounded  by  a  fragment 
of  the  old  city  wall,  lies  St.  Giles  Cripplegate, 
beneath  whose  ancient  roof  lie  buried  Foxe, 
of  the  "Book  of  Martyrs,"  and  John  Milton. 

Before  the  old  black  marble  altar,  Oliver 


i?2  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

and  Elizabeth  Cromwell  were  married,  ere 
the  throne  of  the  Stuarts  had  begun  to  quake 
at  the  word  of  the  Lincolnshire  farmer. 
Above  the  altar  is  a  beautifully  tinted  eye, 
a  stained  glass  window  designed  by  Reyn- 
olds. 

The  parish  of  St.  Giles  Cripplegate  must 
have  been  strongly  tinctured  with  Puritan- 
ism even  before  the  days  of  the  Common- 
wealth ;  and  its  spirit  evidently  changed  little 
when  Charles  II  returned  to  the  throne  of  his 
fathers. 

The  parish  is  a  type  of  the  real  heart  of 
England.  Changes  might  come  at  court, 
frivolous  nobles  follow  and  outdo  the  exam- 
ple of  a  frivolous  king ;  but  middle-class  Eng- 
land move  steadily  on  in  the  path  she  had 
chosen,  the  path  that  led  to  freedom  in 
church  and  state,  to  purity  and  strength  in 
the  home.  The  good  work  of  Cromwell  and 
his  followers  was  not  undone  by  the  Restor- 
ation; some  of  the  excesses  of  Puritanism 
were  checked  by  contrary  excesses,  but  the 
vital  part  remained  and  grew,  the  seed  of  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  173 

best  things  in  modern  English  life  and  char- 
acter. 

We  pass  by  Finsbury  Circus,  a  name  which 
recalls  the  sometime  owner  of  a  large  liv- 
ery stable  in  the  neighborhood,  who  in  the 
course  of  time  and  nature  was  promoted  to 
be  the  grandfather  of  John  Keats.  The  com- 
bination is  paradoxical;  nothing  that  we  can 
discover  in  his  parentage  accounts  for  the 
Hellenic  genius  of  Keats.  It  is  a  comfort  to 
find  evidence  that  there  are  some  things  un- 
accounted for  by  either  heredity  or  environ- 
ment. 

At  last,  rambling  along  in  leisurely  fash- 
ion, stopping  to  look  at  everything  that 
promises  to  be  of  interest,  we  come  to  the 
cemetery  known  as  Bunhill  Fields.  Here, 
being  tired  and  hungry,  we  sit  down  on  a 
shaded  bench  outside,  and  peacefully  eat  our 
luncheon,  enjoying  the  coolness  and  quiet, 
the  freedom  from  dust  and  confusion. 

Having  thus  refreshed  the  inner  woman,  we 
enter  the  cemetery  and  begin  our  search  for 
the  tomb  of  Susannah  Wesley  and  those  of 
George  Fox,  Defoe  and  Bunyan.  The  graves 


174  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

are  close  together  and  there  are  many  inter- 
esting things  to  see ;  but  we  stop  for  nothing 
till  we  have  found  the  plain  grey  obelisk 
erected,  by  penny  contributions  of  the  chil- 
dren of  England,  to  the  author  of  "Robinson 
Crusoe."  In  the  long  run,  the  right  thing 
happens  in  this  changeful  world;  and  after 
two  centuries,  the  neglected  grave  has  re- 
ceived due  honor  from  those  who  owe  most 
to  the  man  whose  dust  it  holds. 

I  know  a  bright  young  girl  who  says  that 
she  would  not  have  cared  to  have  Defoe  for 
a  personal  acquaintance;  because  she  should 
have  thought  whatever  he  said  was  in  some 
way  a  joke  at  her  expense ;  but  she  adds,  "I 
like  to  know  him  across  the  ages."  Personal 
acquaintance  with  the  wiry,  active,  keen-eyed 
man  may  have  had  its  drawbacks.  Many  a 
man  is  interesting  in  a  book  who  would  have 
been  "gey  ill  to  live  wi'  "  through  the  wear 
and  tear  of  every  day  experience;  but  I 
should  have. been  willing  to  be  laughed  at,  if 
I  might  have  known  the  man  of  many  ideas, 
who  made  even  the  pillory  a  center  of  re- 
spectful interest  and  an  advertising  medium. 


IN  ENGLAND.  175 

How  well  he  would  have  fitted  into  twentieth 
century  life ;  what  ways  he  would  have  found 
for  expending  his  tremendous  energies;  and 
what  commotions  he  would  have  stirred  up, 
this  early  Independent  in  politics  and  re- 
ligion, this  man  who  lived  the  strenuous  life 
in  most  strenuous  wise. 

Not  far  away,  calmly  reposing  upon  his 
tombstone,  a  book  tucked  under  his  arm, 
lies  that  other  benefactor  of  childhood,  John 
Bunyan,  who  wrote  the  story  of  a  man  who 
left  home,  "the  book  didn't  say  why,"  a  tale 
regarding  which  we  must  concur  with  the 
verdict  of  Huckleberry  Finn,  "The  state- 
ments in  it  was  interestin'  but  tough." 

Everybody  should  read  "Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress" in  childhood;  it  never  can  mean  so 
much  at  any  later  period  of  life.  The  alle- 
gory causes  no  trouble,  though  it  is,  all  along, 
subconsciously  felt;  the  book  is,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  a  wonderful  story  of  fairies  and 
giants,  enchanted  palaces,  and  magic  regions ; 
it  is  not  exceeded  in  mystery  and  terror  by 
even  the  "Arabian  Nights."  Such,  at  least, 
is  my  personal  experience.  I  grew  intimate 


176  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

with  the  book  between  the  ages  of  six  and 
nine,  in  the  course  of  long  vacations  spent  on 
my  grandfather's  farm.  No  children's  books 
were  found  in  that  Knickerbocker-Puritan 
household;  so  my  literary  appetite  satisfied 
its  cravings  with  an  old  copy  of  the  "Na- 
tional Fifth  Reader,"  filled  chiefly  with  se- 
lections from  English  writers  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century;  the  narrative  and  poetical 
portions  of  the  Bible;  and,  lastly,  the  work 
of  the  inspired  tinker  of  Bedford. 

What  delicious  thrills  of  terror  I  experi- 
enced as  I  followed  Christian  through  the 
Slough  of  Despond  and  the  Interpreter's 
House;  past  the  lions  into  the  House  Beau- 
tiful; saw  him  imprisoned  in  the  castle  of 
Giant  Despair ;  watched  breathlessly  his  bat- 
tle with  Apollyon;  and  hung  upon  his  foot- 
steps as  he  made  his  way  through  the  Valley 
of  Shadow  out  into  the  Land  of  Beulah. 

My  "Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which  differed 
in  various  ways  from  Bunyan's,  had  its  locale 
in  the  maple  grove  beyond  the  orchard ;  and, 
on  grey,  cloudy  days,  nothing  would  induce 
me  to  pass  the  orchard  fence,  unless  escorted 


IN  ENGLAND.  177 

by  some  able-bodied  man  of  the  family,  who 
played,  all  unwittingly  the  role  of  Greatheart 
to  my  Christiana  or  Mercy.  This  was  be- 
cause I  feared  lest  Apollyon  or  Giant  De- 
spair might  swoop  suddenly  down  and  bear 
me  away  to  some  dark  fate,  forever  unknown 
to  my  disconsolate  relatives. 

These  ideas  remained  securely  locked  in 
my  own  breast.  With  the  reticence  of  child- 
hood, I  concealed  alike  my  joy  in  the  beauty 
of  the  story,  my  delicious  terror  over  the 
tragic  portions,  and  my  bewilderment  at  its 
inconsistencies.  For  I  was  bewildered.  I 
never  troubled  myself  about  finding  any 
meaning  in  the  book  of  Revelation,  taking 
for  granted  that  its  beauty  was  all  any  rea- 
sonable person  ought  to  expect  to  find  there- 
in— that  was  "art  for  art's  sake,"  if  you 
choose.  But  I  did  wonder  why,  if  the  City  of 
Destruction  were  such  a  dangerous  place, 
Christian  should  go  away  without  his  wife 
and  children.  Most  of  the  fathers  I  knew 
would  have  removed  their  families  from  such 
a  locality  by  force,  if  necessary.  Then,  too, 
there  was  no  record  that  he  ever  wrote  to 

12 


i;8  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

them,  sent  them  any  money,  or  received 
much  information  concerning  them.  Most 
reprehensible  conduct  in  a  husband  and 
father,  this  seemed  to  me;  and  yet  the  au- 
thor appeared  to  think  Christian's  behavior 
in  these  respects  entirely  proper  and  praise- 
worthy. 

Despite  the  puzzles,  I  loved  the  book ;  and 
now  I  love  the  fiery,  brave,  restless  soul  of 
its  author.  There  are  people,  very  sensible, 
well-regulated,  highly  respectable  persons, 
who  affirm  that  the  great  allegory  is  the  prod- 
uct of  a  morbid  mind;  and  some  even  de- 
clare that  its  author  was  insane.  Perhaps  so ; 
but  if  he  were,  some  of  the  rest  of  us  would 
like  to  be  afflicted  with  a  mental  aberration 
of  the  same  type. 

Here  is  the  grave  of  the  mother  of  John, 
Charles,  and  seventeen  lesser  Wesleys.  "Su- 
sannah, a  lily,"  says  the  dictionary.  From 
what  we  know  of  her  character,  we  conclude 
that  this  English  Cornelia  with  such  a  well- 
filled  jewel  casket,  deserved  her  name,  for 
purity  and  sweetness ;  but  she  was  not  of  the 
lilies  that  "toil  not  neither  do  they  spin." 


IN  ENGLAND.  179 

The  modern  imagination  stands  appalled 
before  the  audacity  of  those  heads  of  large 
families  who  so  coolly  assumed  responsibility 
for  the  temporal  and  spiritual  well-being  of  so 
many  human  souls.  To  feed  and  clothe  from 
a  dozen  to  twenty  children  is  somewhat  of  a 
task;  but  that  is  a  minor  matter.  It  is  the 
thought  of  training  them  for  life  with  all  its 
possibilities  of  good  or  evil  that  gives  one 
pause — a  human  soul  is  so  precious;  and, 
when  we  know  so  little  about  our  own,  it  is 
such  a  grave  responsibility  to  venture  to  di- 
rect the  souls  of  others.  Considering  the 
amount  of  blind  experimenting  indulged  in 
by  parents  and  teachers,  it  speaks  well  for 
the  general  tendencies  of  children  that,  on 
the  whole,  they  develop  so  well. 

We  spend  a  little  time  in  Wesley  Memorial 
Chapel  across  the  street  from  the  cemetery, 
and  then  climb  to  the  top  of  a  tram  which 
will  take  us  pretty  near  to  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land, the  first  station  on  our  homeward  jour- 
ney. It  is  because  of  weariness,  also  because 
we  have  gone  over  the  ground  once  on  this 
day,  and  desire  to  save  time,  that  we  choose 


i8o  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

to  return  by  tram  instead  of  on  foot.  So  we 
make  our  way  back,  passing  Finsbury  Circus 
again,  threading  winding  streets  whose 
names  have  grown  familiar  in  the  pages  of 
Dickens,  Besant,  Hare,  and  Hutton;  change 
near  the  Bank  to  an  omnibus;  and  pursue 
our  tranquil  way,  catching  glimpses,  here  of 
the  barber-shop  that  once  as  a  palace  shel- 
tered Henry  VIII  and  his  magnificent  Car- 
dinal, then  of  Holborn  Viaduct  and  the  City 
Temple;  and  again  of  the  quaint  old  houses 
near  Staples'  Inn,  a  sight  of  which  place  al- 
ways revives  one's  curiosity  about  the  rest 
of  the  story  of  "Edwin  Drood."  I  have  in- 
vented half  a  dozen  conclusions  for  that  grue- 
some tale,  all  rather  satisfactory  in  parts ;  but 
I  should  like  to  know  how  Dickens  himself 
would  have  completed  the  structure  which  he 
began. 

"Ah !  who  shall  lift  that  wand  of  magic  power, 

And  the  lost  clue  regain? 
The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin's  tower 
Unfinished  must  remain." 

Sometimes,  if  we  find  ourselves  at  a  spot 


IN  ENGLAND.  181 

remote  from  Queen  Square  when  the  after- 
noon is  drawing  to  a  close,  we  betake  our- 
selves to  the  nearest  station  of  the  Under- 
ground Railway,  and  reach  our  abiding  place 
by  a  short  cut.  As  a  time-saving  device,  "the 
underground"  is  a  success;  but,  as  a  pleas- 
ant means  of  transit,  not  much  can  be  said 
for  it.  I  always  feel  that  I  have  strayed  into 
one  of  Dante's  upper  circles  and  am  doomed 
to  go  around  and  around  in  it  for  an  indefi- 
nite period;  it  is  dark  even  in  the  station; 
the  air  is  damp,  stuffy,  and  ill-smelling;  and 
it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  find  out  when 
one  has  reached  his  destination.  I  say  ner- 
vously to  Princess: 

"Can  you  tell  what  this  station  is?" 

She  responds  gloomily: 

"I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  'Venus  Soap' 
or  'Massawattee  Tea ;'  both  names  are  very 
much  in  evidence." 

At  last,  by  dint  of  much  watching,  worry- 
ing and  questioning,  we  manage  to  effect  a 
landing  at  the  right  place.  We  return  to  the 
upper  air,  feeling  that  we  have  made  one 
more  escape  from  the  ante-room  of  the  In- 


182  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

fernal  Regions,  and  resolved  that  it  will  be 
long  ere  we  again  desert  the  surface  of  the 
earth  and  the  brooding  of  the  overarching 
sky,  even  to  save  that  most  valuable  of  com- 
modities to  the  American,  time. 

Another  long,  delightful  day  we  spent  once 
as  I  shall    tell.      We    started    directly  after 
breakfast,  taking  an  omnibus  to  Hyde  Park. 
Here  we  entered  near  the  colossal  and  rather 
unmeaning    statue    called  "Achilles,"  which 
poses  near  the  drive  in  order  to  recall  once 
more  the  manifold  virtues  of  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.     How  that  dignified  gentleman 
would  stare,  could  he  see  this  remarkable  ob- 
ject which  a  grateful  country  has  set  up  in 
his  memory.     Why    Achilles    to    represent 
Wellington?      Why  not  Hector?    Possibly 
because  the  Trojan  prince  was  defeated  in  his 
one  great  military  undertaking ;  but  that  was 
no  fault  of  his,  on  his  merits  he  should  have 
won;  and  he  presents  far  more  points  of  re- 
semblance to  the  Iron  Duke  than  does  the 
fickle,  though  fascinating  Greek. 

We   go   along   the    flower-bordered   way, 
pausing  for   a   glance    at    Byron,    sitting  in 


IN  ENGLAND.  183 

mournful  solitude  within  the  railed  enclosure 
at  the  right.  A  good  portrait  of  Byron 
never  fails  to  be  a  pleasant  object  to  the  eye ; 
for,  barring  the  troublesome  foot,  he  "looks 
his  part"  of  a  poet  of  generous  enthusiasms. 
Strange  it  is,  that  the  storms  and  bitterness 
of  his  unhappy  life  have  left  so  little  impress 
upon  his  face.  Was  it  because  the  evil  was 
temporary  and  the  better  qualities  perma- 
nent in  his  strangely  mingled  nature? 

The  great  scarlet  begonias,  mingled  with 
purplish-blue  ageratum  and  other  flowers, 
"lovelier  than  their  names,"  as  they  have 
need  to  be,  so  marvelous  is  their  nomencla- 
ture, beguile  our  walk,  until,  without  realiz- 
ing the  distance  over  which  we  have  wander- 
ed, we  find  ourselves  near  the  Serpentine. 
Soon  we  cross  the  little  bridge,  and  are  in 
Kensington  Gardens,  another  restful  place 
that  seems,  this  bright  summer  morning,  as 
remote  from  the  roar  and  bustle  of  London 
as  though  it  were  on  some  distant  planet. 

At  the  farther  side    of    the    gardens,  we 
come  upon  that  strange  composite,  the  Al 
bert  memorial.     Here,  under  a  wonderfully 


184  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

carved,  gilded  and  colored,  Gothic  canopy, 
sits  the  figure  of  the  Prince  Consort,  all  be- 
gilt.  This  monument  furnishes  another  in- 
stance of  what  appears  to  be  the  modern 
English  idea  of  doing  honor  to  the  nation's 
heroes.  It  seems,  for  some  occult  reason, 
necessary  to  make  the  statues  as  large  as 
possible,  and  as  little  as  may  be  in  accord- 
ance with  the  known  habits  and  tastes  of  the 
persons  commemorated.  Prince  Albert  was 
undoubtedly  a  simple,  unassuming  gentle- 
man, of  sound  judgment  and  refined  tastes; 
yet  he  is  doomed  to  sit  for  ages  under  this 
ugly  canopy,  a  tawdry,  gilded  figure,  as  in- 
harmonious with  its  surroundings  as  with  the 
nature  of  the  man  whom  it  is  meant  to  honor. 
The  base  of  the  pedestal  is  both  beautiful 
and  symbolic.  The  sculptured  groups  rep- 
resenting Science,  Agriculture,  Manufac- 
tures, and  Commerce,  with  those  below  typi- 
fying the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  as  well 
as  the  bas-reliefs  of  famous  sculptors,  poets,_ 
musicians  and  painters,  are  full  of  spirit  and 
life ;  and  suggest  the  varied  interests  that  oc- 
cupied the  time  and  thought  of  the  man 


IN  ENGLAND.  185 

whom  England  was  so  fortunate  as  to  claim 
as  the  consort  of  her  Queen. 

The  group  representing  America,  the  slen- 
der maiden  guiding  the  wild  bison  by  means 
of  a  star-tipped  wand — intellect  and  spiritual 
power  subduing  and  directing  the  forces  of 
nature — is  very  striking  and  suggestive;  but 
in  view  of  the  alarm  in  Europe  over  Ameri- 
can aggression  ( ! !)  why  may  we  not  claim 
the  entire  eight  groups  as  our  symbols  ? 

Speaking  of  American  aggression  recalls  a 
conversation  in  which  we  shared  at  the  home 
of  a  friendly  Londoner  to  whose  family  we 
had  letters  of  introduction.  The  family  were 
very  kind  to  us,  entertained  us  under  their 
roof  and  showed  us  various  attentions  for 
which  we  hope  they  will  all  be  rewarded  by 
those  just  influences  that  bring  friends  to 
him  that  showeth  himself  friendly. 

The  man  of  the  house  aforesaid  had  drawn 
from  Princess  a  vigorous  defense  of  the 
Union  policy  during  the  Civil  War ;  and  find- 
ing her  intractable  on  that  subject,  attacked 
me  anent  our  territorial  expansion.  After  a 


i86  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

few  preliminary  passes,  I  made  a  home  thrust 
by  saying, 

"But  we're  .only  following  the  example  you 
set  us." 

The  gentleman  laughed  genially  as  he  ad- 
mitted, 

"Quite  right.  You  see  we  wish  to  do  all 
the  grabbing  ourselves." 

So  that  international  difficulty  was  amica- 
bly settled.  To  tell  the  truth  occasionally, 
even  about  one's  country,  is  an  effective  and 
wholesome  method  of  clearing  up  the  atmos- 
phere. 

On  this  happy  pilgrimage,  we  omitted  the 
interior  of  the  Albert  Memorial  Hall,  and, 
after  lunching  comfortably  in  a  little  pavilion 
hard  by  in  the  gardens,  wandered  on  to  the 
South  Kensington  museum. 

Of  course,  one  cannot  see  everything 
worth  seeing  in  this  collection  in  a  half-day's 
visit.  It  is  something  to  be  dipped  into  that 
one  may  determine  what  is  most  valuable  to 
himself,  and  then  return  to  spend  as  much 
time  as  possible  with  the  things  he  likes. 
The  carved  Asiatic  woods,  together  with  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  187 

models  of  Indian  buildings  and  other  archi- 
tectural reproductions,  are  possibly  the  most 
interesting  parts  of  the  vast  collection.  Miss 
Bradford  one  day  when  she  went  to  the  mu- 
seum with  me  set  the  seal  of  her  disapproba- 
tion upon  my  favorites,  by  saying  loftily, 

"O,  I  don't  care  for  these  models  of  cathe- 
drals, I've  seen  most  of  the  real  buildings." 

One  might  as  well  say  he  did  not  care  for 
a  portrait,  because  he  had  some  time  or  other 
seen  its  original.  In  fact,  it  is  with  buildings 
as  with  nature,  we  see  them  best  when  some 
one  who  knows  and  loves  them,  calls  our  at- 
tention to  their  especial  beauties.  The  sight 
of  a  copy  of  some  building  that  I  know  is  like 
coming  upon  a  familiar  portrait  in  a  strange 
gallery;  and  often  the  model,  being  smaller 
in  size  and  nearer  to  the  eye,  reveals  interest- 
ing details  overlooked  in  the  original. 

But  Miss  Bradford  represents  a  class,  made 
up  largely,  I  regret  to  say,  of  American  wo- 
men. Their  behavior  seems  to  be  an  out- 
growth of  the  belief  that  knowledge  is  to  be 
acquired  chiefly  for  purposes  of  display,  and 
not  for  one's  personal  comfort  and  satisfac- 


i88  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

tion,  nor  yet  for  the  elevation  of  one's 
thoughts  and  sentiments;  they  have  knowl- 
edge, but  neither  wisdom  nor  culture.  After 
I  have  been  beset  in  room  after  room  by  the 
high  metallic  buzzing  of  one  of  these  would- 
be  superior  persons,  I  cry  out  in  spirit,  if  not 
audibly,  "And  the  Lord  God  sent  the  hor- 
net;" sit  down  in  a  corner  to  give  the  crea- 
ture a  chance  to  move  on  and  away  ;•  and  fall 
to  self-examination  with  a  view  to  determin- 
ing what  heinous  crime  I  have  committed, 
that  I  should  be  doomed  to  this  particular 
form  of  punishment.  Whenever  I  had  Miss 
Bradford  on  my  hands,  however,  and  had  not 
only  to  endure  her  dissertations,  but  the  won- 
dering and  pitying,  or  irritated,  glances  of 
the  other  visitors,  I  consoled  myself  with  the 
thought  that  I  was  suffering  in  a  good  cause. 

Leaving  the  Museum,  we  took  an  omnibus 
which  put  us  down  near  Westminster  Abbey, 
where  we  spent  the  remainder  of  the  after- 
noon in  the  Poets'  Corner. 

Princess  and  I  like,  occasionally,  to  visit 
the  Parliament  buildings  and  the  Abbey  on 
the  same  day.  Both  structures  have  so  much 


IN  ENGLAND.  189 

to  tell  of  the  history  of  England  and  her  peo- 
ple that  to  go  from  one  to  the  other  is  like 
reading  successive  chapters  in  an  illustrated 
serial  story. 

The  earliest  chapter  of  the  story  is  illu- 
minated in  the  series  of  King  Arthur  frescoes 
in  the  Queen's  Robing  Room.  What  a  hold 
that  possibly  mythical  king  has  taken  upon 
the  mind  of  the  western  world.  If  he  were 
not  an  actual  person,  he  ought  to  have  been; 
history  has  neglected  an  opportunity,  if  she 
did  really  leave  him  out. 

The  Princes'  chamber,  with  its  Tudor  por- 
traits, reminds  one  again  of  that  royal  scoun- 
drel, King  Henry  VIII.  Truly  any  fair  dame 
on  whom  he  cast  admiring  glances,  must 
have  felt  an  almost  irresistible  inclination  to 
exercise  the  muscles  of  her  neck  in  order  to 
make  sure  that  her  head  was  securely  fasten- 
ed in  its  place.  Nor  were  lovely  ladies'  heads 
alone  unsafe ;  the  axe  was  much  in  demand  in 
those  days  for  cutting  down  any  object  whose 
outlines  disturbed  the  royal  eye. 

In  the  Commons'  Corridor,  one  pauses  to 
recall  his  Whittier  before  the  painting  of 


igo  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

"Last  Sleep  of  Argyle ;"  while  in  the  Peers' 
Corridor,  every  American  lingers  near 
Cope's  "Departure  of  the  Mayflower."  If 
all  the  consequences  of  the  sailing  of  that  lit- 
tle boat  had  been  foreseen,  would  she  have 
been  allowed  to  go  ?  Yet  who,  with  the  wild- 
est imagination,  could  have  prefigured  -every- 
thing in  that  long  chain  of  events?  Then, 
too,  King  James  had  his  hands  full  with  the 
malignants  who  stayed  at  home ;  and  doubt- 
less, would  have  been  glad,  in  any  case,  to 
purchase  a  little  quiet  for  himself,  though  at 
the  price  of  much  trouble  for  some  far-off 
successor. 

One  feels,  especially,  the  intimate  relation 
between  the  Puritan  who  stayed  at  home  and 
him  who,  more  adventurous  or  less  patient, 
sought  a  haven  in  the  New  Land,  when  he 
sees,  so  near  together,  this  Mayflower  pic- 
ture and  that  other  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons refusing  to  give  up  the  five  obnoxious 
members,  at  the  command  of  a  king  who 
overstepped  his  constitutional  authority. 
What  a  change  in  sentiment  it  marks  that 
such  pictures  find  an  honored  place  here 


IN  ENGLAND.  191 

among  the  memorials  of  England's  progress ; 
and  how  the  most  insensible  of  us  must  feel 
the  kinship  to  which  these  two  paintings  bear 
such  an  eloquent  witness. 

St.  Stephen's  Crypt  is  an  attractive  spot, 
both  for  its  own  beauty  and  its  statues  of 
some  of  the  most  interesting  men  who  have 
figured  in  Parliamentary  history.  They  make 
up  a  goodly  company;  but  perhaps  the  most 
striking  among  them  is  the  figure  of  Hamp- 
den,  the  leader  of  that  movement  which  end- 
ed by  putting  into  the  hands  of  the  people's 
representatives,  among  English-speaking 
races  the  wide  world  over,  the  power  of  the 
purse.  This  statement  of  the  principle  may 
sound  mercenary,  but  it  is  high  political 
ethics. 

The  rooms  devoted  to  the  Commons  and 
the  Peers  are  a  trifle  disappointing.  For 
places  wherein  such  weighty  business  is 
transacted,  they  seem  small  and  over-crowd- 
ed; and  one  turns  with  a  sense  of  relief  to 
Westminster  Hall,  the  Hall  of  William  Ru- 
fus,  whereof  our  old  friend  Macaulay  hath 
had  somewhat  to  say  in  sounding  periods, 


192  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

that  echo  in  our  ears  as  we  pass  through  the 
doorway.  The  hall  was  repaired  and  given  a 
new  roof  in  the  days  of  Richard  II,  our  still 
older  friend,  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  being  Mas- 
ter of  the  Works.  Dan  Geoffrey  must  have 
been  a  man  both  busy  and  capable. 

From  the  old  hall,  we  go  again  to  the 
Chapter  House  of  the  Abbey,  in  honor  of  the 
early  Parliaments  held  there,  the  monks  of 
Westminster,  to  their  credit  be  it  said,  hav- 
ing a  healthy  and  honest  belief  in  govern- 
ment by  the  people. 

The  early  ecclesiastical  history  is  quite 
fully  written  in  the  glass  of  the  windows. 
There  must  have  been  much  rough  humor  in 
those  old  days,  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
representation  of  the  famous  quarrel  for  pre- 
cedence between  the  Primate  of  England 
(Archbishop  of  York)  and  the  Primate  of  all 
England  (Archbishop  of  Canterbury).  That 
was  a  fine  distinction,  indeed;  but  then  the 
old  theologians  were  subtle  casuists. 

A  little  peep  into  the  Jericho  Parlor  and 
another  into  the  Jerusalem  Chamber  form 
not  a  bad  finish  for  our  historical  survey. 


IN  ENGLAND.  193 

The  latter  room  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing spots  hereabouts.  There  is  nothing  in 
particular  to  see  except  the  paneling  of  olive- 
wood  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  Holy 
City,  and  a  picture  of  the  death  of  Henry  IV. 
Poor  Henry  of  the  stormy  life,  almost  as  sad, 
though  it  seemed  more  prosperous,  as  that  of 
his  grandson. 

It  is  the  associations  of  this  room  that  lend 
it  dignity.  Here,  Caxton,  on  his  return  from 
Flanders,  set  up  his  printing  press.  Who 
shall  tell  whether  that  venture  of  his  has 
brought  more  of  good  or  evil?  Of  good,  let 
us  hope,  since  intelligence  is  ever  better  than 
ignorance ;  and  man  must  come,  at  last, 
though  blunderingly  and  with  much  travail 
of  soul,  into  his  inheritance  of  wisdom,  his 
means  of  subduing  the  earth 'and  the  earthy. 
\Ylio  yet  has  begun  to  dream  what  possibili- 
ties are  wrapped  up  in  that  innocent  sound- 
ing phrase:  "Subdue  the  earth?"  Shall  we 
some  day  learn  so  to  control  material  forces 
as  to  direct  the  rain  into  an  appointed  chan- 
nel, and  harness  the  whirlwind  to  machines 
wherewith  it  shall  produce  man's  bread  and 

13 


194  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

not  destroy  it?  Shall  we,  moreover,  learn  to 
subdue  the  earthy  in  ourselves,  and  bring 
about  the  reign  of  righteousness  and  peace 
in  the  world?  Verily  such  things  as  these  I 
do  expect,  and  that  ere  long,  as  history 
counts  time ;  for  the  evolution  of  the  world  is 
toward  better  things. 

In  this  same  room,  Elizabeth  Woodville, 
widow  of  Edward  IV,  gave  into  the  hands  of 
their  loving  uncle,  Richard  of  Gloucester, 
the  two  young  princes  whom  that  strange 
creature  is  said  to  have  smothered  in  the 
Tower.  There  are  other  things  to  be  told  of 
Richard ;  without  doubt  he  was  intelligent 
beyond  his  time,  and  a  patron  of  learning; 
but  ever  across  the  pages  of  the  impartial 
historian  who  seeks  to  rehabilitate  the  char- 
acter of  this  prince,  there  falls  the  shadow  of 
the  malignant  hunchback  of  Shakespeare's 
drama. 

They  were  an  evil  brood,  those  three 
brothers  of  the  House  of  York;  Edward,  a 
libertine;  George  of  Clarence,  an  indolent, 
weak-minded  sot;  and  Richard,  a  murderer 
who  cleared  his  path  to  the  throne  by  remov- 


IN  ENGLAND.  195 

ing  from  it  his  next  of  kin,  with,  apparently, 
the  coolness  of  a  landscape  gardener  who 
cuts  down  the  superfluous  trees  that  obstruct 
a  desirable  view.  It  is  the  fashion  with  Eng- 
lish historians  to  attribute  the  immoralities 
of  Charles  II  to  his  stay  in  France;  where 
did  Edward  IV  learn  so  thoroughly  the  same 
bad  lessons? 

The  memory  of  the  ecclesiastical  councils 
and  the  sessions  of  the  New  Testament  re- 
vision committee  held  here  are  hardly  suffi- 
cient to  dispel  the  gloom  of  these  darker  as- 
sociations. Accordingly,  we  go  out  into  the 
street  for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  and  then 
across  to  St.  Margaret's,  the  Parliamentary 
Church. 

Here  are  memorials  to  Caxton,  Raleigh, 
Milton,  and  our  own  Phillips  Brooks;  a  no- 
ble gathering,  no  one  of  whom  need  be 
ashamed  of  the  society  in  which  he  finds  him- 
self. 

Caxton  and  Raleigh  sleep  in  the  church- 
yard, and  so  does  Milton's  "Late  espoused 
saint,"  and  the  child  who  died  with  her,  the 


196  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

characters  in  the  one  tender  interlude  of  the 
Puritan  poet's  stern  life. 

St.  Margaret's  looks  a  noble  building,  even 
under  the  shadow  of  Westminster  Abbey; 
and  Dean  Farrar  must  have  left  it  with  re- 
gret, though  called  to  Canterbury. 

We  had  brought  letters  of  introduction  to 
a  family  living  in  Brixton,  relatives  of  some 
good  friend  of  ours.  When  they  learned 
that  Princess  and  I  were  alone  in  London, 
they  invited  us,  most  cordially  and  earnestly, 
to  gather  up  our  pilgrim-robes,  staves  and 
scallop-shells,  or  their  modern  equivalents, 
umbrellas,  hand-bags,  dress-suit  cases,  and 
shawl-straps,  and  take  up  our  abode,  for  the 
time  that  remained  to  us  in  the  city,  under 
their  hospitable  roof. 

We  were  introduced  to  no  "marble  halls," 
nor  did  we  meet  any  members  of  the  royal 
family  or  the  peerage ;  but  we  did  see,  in  one 
of  its  best  forms,  the  quiet  home-life  of  well- 
to-do,  middle-class  Londoners. 

Our  host,  a  man  whose  brilliant  dark  eyes 
and  silvery  hair  recalled  the  portraits  of 
Whittier,  and  who  like  our  Quaker  poet, 


IN  ENGLAND.  197 

owed  those  dark  eyes  to  a  strain  of  Hugue- 
not blood,  had  been  for  many  years  in  busi- 
ness in  "the  city ;"  and  now,  having  accumu- 
lated a  modest  independence,  he  had  retired, 
to  spend  his  declining  years  in  comfort  and 
ease.  The  family,  like  the  majority  of  their 
neighbors,  were  Non-conformists  in  religion, 
and  in  politics,  Liberals.  As  our  hostess  had 
kept  up  a  regular  correspondence  with  her 
brother  in  America,  the  entire  connection, 
knew  far  more  of  the  extent,  population,  and 
resources  of  the  United  States  than  any  other 
English  people  that  it  has  been  my  fortune 
to  meet. 

Our  host  hated  the  conventional  tall  hat, 
which  is  the  only  head-gear  a  self-respecting 
Englishman  allows  himself  on  Sunday;  yet 
he  donned  it  regularly,  and  went  to  his  place 
in  the  choir  of  his  church ;  he  was  also  a 
member  of  the  special-service  choir  of  St. 
Paul's,  and  of  the  Handel  Choral  Society  of 
the  Crystal  Palace;  he  had  belonged  for 
many  years  to  the  choir  of  Albert  Memorial 
Hall.  He  had,  however,  given  up  his  place 
in  this  organization  because  the  choir  was 


198  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

frequently  called  upon  to  sing  when  foreign 
potentates  were  entertained,  and,  as  the  mu- 
sical program  was  usually  preceded  by  a  din- 
ner lasting  until  eleven  o'clock  or  later,  "the 
hours  were  too  late  for  a  staid  elderly  man, 
though  it  was  all  very  well  when  I  was 
younger;  so,  after  I'd  walked  home  once  or 
twice  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  on  ac- 
count of  a  scarcity  of  cabs,  I  gave  it  up." 

The  family  life  was  peaceful  and  whole- 
some. I  could  not  help  wondering  how  many 
Americans,  business  men,  retiring  from  ac- 
tive life,  would  be  content  to  pass  their  days 
as  calmly  and  quietly  as  this  rosy-faced  Eng- 
lishman, who  had  passed  beyond  the  Psalm- 
ist's limit  of  life;  but  still  walked  with  an 
elastic  step,  took  a  deep  interest  in  the  be- 
nevolences of  his  church,  watched  the  prog- 
ress of  events  in  America  and  the  far  East, 
and  laughed  at  a  joke  with  all  the  enjoyment 
of  a  schoolboy. 

The  number  of  meals  daily  prepared  in  the 
house,  and  the  other  occasions  during  the 
twenty-four  hours  when  refreshments  seem- 
ed necessary  to  the  common  welfare,  were 


IN  ENGLAND.  199 

alike  appalling.  We  breakfasted  at  nine, 
dined  at  half-past  one,  took  tea  at  half-past 
four,  ate  supper  whenever  we  reached  home 
after  our  evening  expeditions;  and  then  we 
had  biscuits,  lemonade  and  fruit  every  time 
we  left  the  house  or  returned  to  it;  not  to 
mention  cake  and  tea  and  the  offer  of  wine 
whenever  we  called. 

The  question,  "Are  you  a  teetotaller?" 
meets  the  American  at  every  turn,  if  he  has 
any  social  relations  with  the  English ;  and, 
while  the  traveler's  "teetotal"  notions  strike 
his  entertainers  as  odd,  he  is  never  made  in 
the  least  uncomfortable.  I  was  indeed  a  tea- 
totaller ;  for  I  drank  more  tea  in  those  two 
weeks  than  in  all  the  previous  years  of  my 
mortal  pilgrimage ;  and  came  near  being  a 
nervous  wreck,  in  consequence  thereof. 
There  is  something  about  an  English  tea- 
table,  with  the  shining  teapot  smothered, 
Desdemona-like,  under  the  cosy,  the  thin 
slices  of  bread-and-butter,  the  delicate 
sponge-cake  and  preserves,  that  is  irresisti- 
ble. It  reminds  one  of  Miss  Edgeworth, 
Mrs.  Gaskell,  and  various  other  delightful 


200  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

persons  who  have  glorified  this  peculiarly 
British  institution;  and  one  feels  that  she  is 
herself  a  schoolgirl  in  short  skirts  and  long 
braids,  and  is  beguiled  by  this  illusion  into 
indulging  too  freely  in  "the  cup  that  cheers 
but  not  inebriates;"  but  which  plays  havoc 
with  the  nerves  of  an  American  spinster  un- 
accustomed to  its  influences.  Remembering 
Johnson's  numberless  cups  of  tea,  I  no  longer 
wondered  that  he  was  sometimes  irritable 
and  impatient  of  contradiction. 

Our  good  friends  helped  us  to  see  many 
interesting  things  and  places.  We  went  to 
Norwood  on  the  top  of  an  omnibus,  a  most 
delightful  journey.  Here  we  saw  the  tomb  of 
Spurgeon,  and  visited  the  Greek  cemetery. 
There  is,  in  the  heart  of  London,  a  numer- 
ous colony  of  Greek  merchants,  who  bury 
their  dead  in  the  beautiful  cemetery  at  Nor- 
wood. The  little  marble  temples  with  their 
inscriptions  in  New  Testament  Greek  were 
strangely  far  away  and  foreign;  yet  helped 
to  the  realization  that  the  beautiful  Hellenic 
tongue  is  not  even  yet  a  dead  language. 

Another  day,  we  went  through  "the  Tube," 


IN  ENGLAND.  201 

the  underground  electric  railway  running 
beneath  the  Thames.  We  came  to  the  sur- 
face by  "lift"  near  the  Mile  End  Road,  along 
which  we  made  our  way  to  the  People's  Pal- 
ace. This  is  the  idea  of  Besant's  "All  Sorts 
and  Conditions  of  Men"  reduced  to  a  work- 
ing reality.  What  a  satisfaction  for  a  man  to 
see  his  helpful  theories  crystallize  into  fact, 
even  during  his  life  on  earth.  Sir  Walter  Be- 
sant  does  not  belong  to  the  first  rank  of  nov- 
elists ;  but  he  has  left  his  mark  for  good  upon 
his  generation,  and  many  others  yet  to  come. 

The  work  done  by  the  Beaumont  trustees 
through  the  People's  Palace  is  thorough  and 
far-reaching.  As  we  strolled  along  the  wide 
street,  looking  at  the  many  new  buildings, 
the  churches,  and  the  Children's  Hospital, 
our  host  said, 

"They  have  done  a  good  work.  I  well  re- 
member the  time,  not  so  very  long  ago,  when 
it  was  not  safe  for  a  respectably-dressed  per- 
son to  walk  down  here,  unless  escorted  by  a 
policeman." 

A  few  minutes  later,  he  added, 

"Do  you  notice  the  names  on  these  signs? 


202  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Mostly  Jewish;  they  are  the  people  who 
never  miss  a  chance  to  better  themselves." 

And  then  Princess  told  him  what  our  own 
Jacob  Riis  has  said, 

"The  Jew  is  the  leaven  of  the  slum.  At 
the  first  chance,  he  rises,  and  takes  the  slum 
with  him." 

The  gymnasiums  were  closed  for  the  sum- 
mer vacation ;  but  the  custodian  showed  us 
the  club  rooms,  the  reading  rooms  and  the 
library,  where  sat  a  goodly  number  of  men 
enjoying  the  daily  papers  and  the  current 
magazines;  also  the  playgrounds  where  chil- 
dren were  regaining  their  birthright  of 
health-giving,  mirthful  play.  At  last,  we 
came  to  Queen's  Hall,  the  great  concert 
room  and  lecture  room,  where  men  and  wo- 
men with  something  worth  saying  are  invited 
to  speak ;  and  where,  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
the  best  organists  of  London  discourse  mu- 
sic to  a  most  appreciative  audience. 

The  custodian  spoke  of  the  great  numbers 
of  Jews  who  came  to  the  Palace,  and  the  ea- 
gerness with  which  they  availed  themselves  of 
all  the  means  of  improvement  there  afforded. 


SAMI'KL   .lOII.NSOX. 


IN  ENGLAND.  203 

He  added  his  testimony  to  the  great  changes 
that  had  come  in  the  neighborhood. 

From  all  with  whom  we  spoke  on  this  sub- 
ject came  corroborative  evidence.  Our  land- 
lady in  Queen  Square  had  said  before  we  left 
her, 

"O,  yes,  indeed ;  there's  been  a  great 
change  in  East  London.  Some  places  in  this 
vicinity  need  more  attention  now  than  White- 
chapel  or  Mile  End  Road." 

This  we  could  easily  believe;  for  never 
anywhere,  even  in  the  poorest  quarters  of 
Naples,  have  I  seen  so  many  such  dirty  chil- 
dren as  in  the  cross-streets  and  alleys  of  re- 
spectable Bloomsbury. 

One  evening,  as  we  rode  down  to  the  East 
India  Docks,  on  the  top  of  a  tram,  a  young 
girl  of  perhaps  twenty,  to  whom  we  address- 
ed some  questions,  replied, 

"O,  yes,  ma'am;  within  my  memory  things 
have  changed  here  until  you'd  never  know  it 
for  the  same  place." 

The  elderly  and  middle-aged  people  talked 
with  us  freely  and  kindly ;  and  the  young 
men  who  went  and  came  during  our  long 


204  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ride,  were  quiet  and  well-behaved.  There  is 
yet  much  work  to  do,  and  many  conditions 
to  change,  but  there  is  ground  for  hope  of 
still  better  things;  and  steadily  accumulating 
proof  everywhere  that  what  the  poor  need, 
and,  though  sometimes  unconsciously,  long 
for,  is  not  charity,  but  justice.  When  we 
learn  that  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  "the 
lower  classes"  are  men  and  women  of  like 
passions  with  ourselves,  just  what  we  our- 
selves should  be  under  the  same  circum- 
stances ;  when  we  meet  them  on  that  ground ; 
then,  slowly,  but  surely,  through  many  blun- 
ders and  heartaches  and  much  exercise  of  pa- 
tience on  both  sides,  will  come  the  reign  of 
justice  and  good  sense  among  mankind ;  and, 
with  them,  love  and  good  will.  This  wan- 
dering about  the  highways  and  byways  of  a 
foreign  city  brings  home  to  us  very  forcibly 
how  much  alike  we  all  are,  in  essentials. 

Our  host  took  us  on  various  Dickens  pil- 
grimages, for  he  is  a  lover  of  Oliver  Twist, 
Barnaby  Rudge  and  the  rest  of  the  goodly 
company  of  oddities  that  throng  the  pages  of 
"Boz."  He  pointed  out  to  us  one  day,  in  a 


IN  ENGLAND.  205 

narrow  passage  leading  off  Fenchurch  street, 
a  tin  sign  inscribed  "Dombey  and  Son;"  but 
we  saw  nothing  of  Florence,  Walter,  or  little 
Paul.  We  also  found  the  site  of  David  Cop- 
perfield's  warehouse  near  Blackfriars  Bridge. 
In  the  Borough  Road  is  the  successor  of 
Chaucer's  Tabard  Inn,  which  is  the  identical 
hostelry  in  whose  courtyard  we  are  intro- 
duced to  him  who  in  time  becomes  our  friend 
— everybody's  friend — Samuel  Weller.  In 
St.  George's  churchyard  nearby,  is  the  wall 
of  the  old  Marshalsea  prison,  the  scene  of  the 
trials 
and 

triumphs 
of 

J.  Wilkins  Micawber. 

We  go  again  to  the  Bell  Yard,  to  the  Old 
Curiosity  Shop  (and  buy  curiosities)  to 
Staple  Inn  and  through  the  various  streets 
that  still  bear  the  names  we  long  ago  learned 
to  know  and  love  in  the  row  of  dark  green 
books  standing  at  a  convenient  height  on  our 
shelves.  It  is  gratifying  to  realize  how  much 
of  Dickens'  London  geography  has  become 


206  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

obsolete,  because  of  the  sweeping  away  of 
abuses  which  he  attacked  so  vigorously  as  to 
compel  their  disappearance. 

While  in  the  Borough  Road,  we  dropped  in 
at  old  St.  Saviour's  Church,  one  of  the  most 
interesting  in  London.  Here  lie  buried  John 
Gower  and  John  Howard ;  here,  too,  lies  the 
dust  of  Edmund  Shakespeare  and  of  Mas- 
singer  and  Fletcher,  each  of  whom  has  a 
memorial  window.  It  seems  to  have  been  a 
church  loved  of  the  player-folk  of  Elizabethan 
days;  or  were  they  buried  here  because  of 
its  proximity  to  the  theaters,  near  which  the 
actors  doubtless  lived? 

Before  the  altar  of  the  ancient  building, 
James  I.  of  Scotland  was  married  to  that 
Lady  Joan  Beaufort  whom  he  had  watched 
so  often  as  she  walked  in  the  gardens  at 
Windsor.  The  parish  of  St.  Savior's  expects 
that  ere  long  its  church  will  be  made  a  cathe- 
dral and  divide  honors  with  Westminster 
Abbey. 

We  made  visits  to  the  National  Gallery,  the 
Tate  Gallery,  and  the  National  Portrait  Gal- 
lery, all  places  where  one  may  profitably 


IN  ENGLAND.  207 

spend  weeks  in  study  of  the  pictures.  We 
took  many  a  peep  into  the  Guild  Hall  with 
its  treasures  of  historical  relics.  We  wander- 
ed down  St.  Martin's  Lane  and  chaffered  with 
the  dealers  in  Wedgewood  ware.  One  after- 
noon and  evening  we  spent  at  the  Crystal 
Palace.  This  is  a  favorite  resort  for  middle- 
class  Londoners  in  summer,  and  is  well  worth 
visiting. 

During  a  large  part  of  the  afternoon,  we 
sat  out  of  doors  listening  and  looking  on  at 
a  vaudeville  performance.  It  was  not  special- 
ly interesting;  but  it  was  entirely  harmless, 
and  afforded  an  opportunity  for  the  display 
of  pretty  costumes  and  much  graceful  posing 
and  marching.  There  seemed  to  be  some 
thread  of  plot  connecting  the  various  episodes, 
but  what  it  was  I  am  not  prepared  to  say, 
as  no  two  of  our  company  were  ever  able 
to  agree  about  the  matter.  Princess  says  I 
went  to  sleep,  and  perhaps  I  did ;  my  chair 
was  comfortable,  the  air  was  cool,  and  the 
music  soothing. 

We  had  refreshments,  of  course,  in  the 
large  main  hall;  and  then,  from  the  balcony, 


208  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

witnessed  the  evolutions  of  a  company  of 
well-trained  girls  on  bicycles. 

The  most  interesting  things  in  the  Palace 
were  not  the  seats  of  the  vast  choir  and  or- 
chestra, among  which  the  great  organ  seems 
lost,  nor  the  curiosities  exhibited  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  hall ;  but  the  succession  of  courts 
displaying  in  chronological  order  the  various 
styles  of  architecture  from  that  of  ancient 
Nineveh  to  the  building  of  modern  times; 
and  in  the  balcony,  the  collection  of  pictures 
commemorating  the  deeds  for  which  the  Vic- 
toria Cross  has  been  conferred. 

When  darkness  came  on,  we  went  outside 
to  look  at  the  fireworks,  a  truly  beautiful  dis- 
play, evidently  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to 
the  onlooking  crowds.  The  Palace,  by  day, 
looks  rather  dull  and  dingy,  more  like  a  fac- 
tory than  a  palace;  but,  seen  from  the  ter- 
races at  night  when  it  is  illuminated,  and  gar- 
landed outside  with  festoons  of  gas-jets  under 
colored  globes,  it  seems  a  fairy  palace  indeed. 

Among  the  interesting  things  to  be  seen  in 
South  London  are  the  Peabody  Buildings, 
model  homes  for  workingmen ;  the  working- 


IN  ENGLAND.  209 

men's  hotels,  Christ  Church  with  its  spire  in 
memory  of  Lincoln,  and  Lambeth  Palace. 

The  American  feels  proud  of  his  national- 
ity when  he  sees  the  Peabody  Buildings  and 
thinks  of  the  combined  good  sense  and  good 
will  that  produced  them.  The  spire  of  Christ 
church  also  causes  a  throb  of  pride.  The 
homely,  wise  and  kindly  man,  our  "middle- 
class  country's  middle-class  president,"  here 
receives  due  honor  where  once  he  was  misun- 
derstood and  ridiculed. 

Lambeth  Palace,  the  London  residence  of 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  has  a  pictur- 
esque Gothic  gate-way,  and  a  library  filled 
with  choice  manuscripts  and  interesting  pic- 
tures; but  is  somewhat  shorn  of  its  ancient 
glory  now  that  the  Archbishop  no  longer 
goes  by  the  water-gate  to  his  state  barge  on 
the  Thames.  Water-gates  and  state-barges 
are  things  of  the  long  ago;  and  a  wide 
thoroughfare  now  separates  the  palace  gar- 
den wall  from  the  river  that  once  lapped 
against  its  sides. 

In  the  parish  church  hard  by  the  Palace  is 
a  small  window  called  the  Peddler's  Window, 
14 


210  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

commemorating  the  peddler  who  bequeathed 
to  the  parish  the  famous  acre  that  now  makes 
so  large  a  part  of  the  parochial  wealth. 

In  connection  with  our  visit  to  Lambeth 
Palace,  we  were  told  a  story  of  Archbishop 
Temple,  an  incident  that  occurred  when  he 
was  Head  Master  of  Rugby  School.  It 
seems  that  Dr.  Temple's  rule  was  stern  but 
just,  and  the  lads  respected  while  they  feared 
him.  On  the  occasion  of  some  breach  of  dis- 
cipline, when  it  seemed  likely  that  one  of  the 
lads,  a  poor  boy,  was  to  suffer  punishment 
for  a  deed  that  he  had  not  committed,  be- 
cause he  was  remaining  silent  rather  than 
bring  blame  upon  another,  a  boy  not  con- 
cerned in  the  affair,  but  acquainted  with  all 
the  circumstances,  wrote  home  to  his  father  a 
full  statement  of  the  case,  adding, 

"I  wish  you  would  see  or  write  to  the  Mas- 
ter about  it ;  for  -  -  ought  not  to  be 
punished,  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  af- 
fair and  is  keeping  quiet  because  he  doesn't 
care  to  tattle.  Temple  will  make  it  all  right 
when  he  knows;  of  course,  he's  a  beast,  but 
he's  a  fust  beast," 


IN  ENGLAND.  211 

And  on  that  consciousness  the  heart  of  the 
schoolboy  leans,  when  he  finds  the  quality 
of  fairness  in  comrade  or  leader.  In  this  case 
the  confidence  was  not  misplaced. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CONCERNING   ENGUSH    RAILWAYS. 

For  some  days  before  leaving  London,  we 
were  busy  visiting  railway  offices  and  tourist's 
agencies,  trying  to  determine  upon  the  most 
direct  route  to  the  southern  Cathedral  towns. 
We  hoped  to  be  able  to  buy  tickets  for  the 
entire  journey  from  London  to  Liverpool. 
In  this  we  failed;  incidentally,  however,  we 
learned  many  things  about  the  management 
of  English  railways. 

At  this  time  the  traveling  public  was  in  a 
great  state  of  irritation  over  the  crowded 
condition  of  the  coaches,  and  the  inadequate 
supply  of  porters  at  the  stations  of  certain 
railways.  The  "Times"  and  other  journals 
published  daily  irate  communications  from 
"Citizen,"  "Traveler,"  etc.,  wherein  were  re- 
lated the  woes  of  the  British  tourist,  his  hat- 
boxes,  his  hold-all,  his  bags,  bundles,  um- 
brellas and  hampers,  and  his  little  tin  trunks 
(English  "boxes"). 


IN  ENGLAND.  213 

On  application  to  the  London  and  South- 
western Railway  Co.,  we  were  furnished  with 
a  most  formidable  volume  yclept  a  time- 
table, which  after  much  cogitation  we  man- 
aged to  understand.  But,  lo,  when  we  had 
found  the  time  of  arrival  and  departure  of 
certain  trains  which  appeared  promising,  we 
discovered  in  a  footnote  the  following  state- 
ment: 

''This  schedule  does  not  mean  that  trains 
will  leave  the  station  at  the  hours  named, 
only  that  they  will  not  leave  before  those 
hours." 

I  considered  this  a  highly  humorous  pro- 
duction, but  Princess  was  vexed.  She  is  or- 
derly and  punctual ;  and  while  in  the  main 
good-natured,  objects  to  starting  on  a  jour- 
ney without  some  reasonable  degree  of  cer- 
tainty as  to  the  time  when  she  will  arrive  at 
her  destination.  But  I,  even  now,  can  not 
recall  that  footnote  without  feeling  that  I 
have  unearthed  a  rich  joke. 

During  our  progress  through  Southern 
England,  we  found  that  this  paragraph  was 
not  intended  as  a  pleasantry;  was,  indeed,  a 


214  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

solemn  statement  of  actual  fact.  When  we 
were  about  to  leave  Salisbury,  we  hurried  to 
the  station  in  great  disorder  cutting  short 
our  luncheon  in  order  to  catch  a  train  that 
was  fabled  to  leave  at  two  o'clock.  After 
waiting  nearly  an  hour,  we  were  told  by  our 
consoler,  the  porter,  that  the  local  divinities 
had  decided  to  make  up  a  "h'extry,"  and 
thereby  give  an  opportunity  for  departure  to 
those  unreasonable  and  impatient  persons 
unwilling  to  wait  longer  for  the  express. 
The  porter,  with  his  assistant,  gathered  up 
our  belongings  and  we  meekly  follow- 
ed them  to  the  coach  that  had  been  se- 
lected for  us.  We  were  informed  that  we 
must  change  cars  at  Templecombe  (Temple- 
coom)  and  Evercreek,  possibly  also  at  Glas- 
tonbury;  though  as  to  this  last  he  was  not 
certain.  "But,"  he  magnanimously  added,  as 
Ned  handed  him  his  largesse  of  coppers,  "ye 
can  h'ahsk  w'en  ye  git  there,  sir." 

When  we  had  progressed  a  little  way  out- 
side the  good  city  of  Salisbury,  we  were  sud- 
denly side-tracked,  and  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  express  ( ?)  for  which  we  had  wait- 


IN  ENGLAND.  215 

ed  so  long  and  vainly,  pass  by  on  the  other 
side  like  the  Levite  of  the  parable.  Indeed 
I  doubt  if  even  that  unpleasant  man  could 
have  been  half  so  haughty  in  manner. 

We  did  not  change  at  Evercreek  but  did 
at  Glastonbury;  so  much  for  our  porter's  in- 
formation. We  "h'ahsked"  every  official  who 
came  within  our  reach  during  the  journey, 
and  no  two  agreed  in  their  statements. 

One' day,  as  we  were  going  from  Warwick 
to  Kenilworth,  we  discovered  that  our  train 
had  suddenly  stopped,  with  no  station  in 
sight.  We  learned  that  the  reason  for  the 
delay  was  the  heinous  conduct  of  an  Ameri- 
can in  the  next  compartment  who  had  enter- 
ed it  without  having  provided  himself  with  a 
ticket.  He  had  hurried  in,  it  seemed,  at  the 
last  minute,  and  was  willing,  nay  eager,  to 
pay  his  fare  ;but,  as  this  was  a  proceeding  out- 
side the  guard's  experience,  and  he  knew  not 
what  might  be  the  result  of  such  a  departure, 
we  were  obliged  to  sit  there  while  the  golden 
moments  slipped  away,  and  listen  to  an  ex- 
planation, given  by  our  compatriot,  of  the 
rebate  system  as  practiced  on  American  rail- 


216  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ways.  The  explanation  was  entirely  clear 
and  rational,  but  utterly  thrown  away  upon 
the  guard.  At  last,  the  two  effected  some 
sort  of  a  compromise,  and  we  moved  on. 

Princess  murmured. 

"Stupid!  which  was  worse,  to  hold  the 
train  and  argue  half  an  hour,  or  let  that  man 
pay  his  fare  and  go  on  ?" 

Whereto  I  replied, 

"The  latter  would  have  been  the  sensible 
thing,  of  course,  but  utterly  without  prece- 
dent in  this  guard's  experience;  and  might  if 
done,  have  resulted  in  a  compound  fracture 
of  the  British  Constitution." 

The  American  traveler  always  feels  that  he 
ought  to  be  a  missionary  to  British  railway 
officials,  and  convert  them  from  the  error  of 
their  ways,  to  such  an  extent,  at  least,  as 
would  cause  those  at  Lincoln  to  know  how 
many  times  and  where  the  traveler  must 
"change  carriages"  before  reaching  Rugby. 

But  he — or  she — who  makes  such  efforts 
spends  himself  for  naught.  "Ephraim  is  join- 
ed to  his  idols."  I  have  listened  by  the  half- 
hour  while  Miss  Bradford  expounded  to  por- 


IN  ENGLAND.  217 

ters,  guards  and  baggagemen  the  superior 
methods  by  which  railroads  are  managed  in 
the  United  States  of  America.  She  gave 
them  much  useful  information,  and  told  them 
many  wholesome  truths.  But  she  might  as 
the  Scotch  proverb  has  it,  "hae  keepit  her 
breath  to  cool  her  parritch."  I  doubt  if  they 
even  heard  her;  certainly  they  gave  no  heed 
to  her  admonitions.  When  all  is  said,  we 
must  own  that  if  the  British  public  like  their 
present  system  of  traveling  accommodations 
(?)  they  have  a  perfect  right  to  enjoy  it  to 
the  utmost.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  do  not 
like  it,  we  have  a  choice  of  three  methods  of 
procedure;  to  stay  at  home  and  escape  it; 
to  go  to  England,  see  and  hear  everything  in- 
teresting that  we  can,  and  bear  the  antiquat- 
ed railway  arrangements  with  resignation ; 
or  last  and  best,  regard  them  as  the  series  of 
jokes  that,  to  an  unbiased  mind  they  certainly 
are.  This  last  method  helps  to  oil  the  ma- 
chinery and  greatly  lessens  the  friction  of 
traveling. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ROYAI,  WINCHESTER. 

We  finally  prepared  a  tentative  itinerary 
for  our  tour  through  the  south  of  England, 
subject-to  the  approval  of  our  friends  and  the 
inconsistencies  of  the  weather  and  the  rail- 
ways; and  one  bright  morning  joined  Miss 
Bradford,  Helen  and  Ned,  they  having  re- 
turned from  the  Continent  the  previous  even- 
ing, at  Waterloo  Station,  preparatory  to 
starting  for  Winchester. 

As  soon  as  we  saw  our  three  fellow-travel- 
ers, we  knew  that  their  adventures  in  Paris 
had  been  of  an  interesting  nature.  We  were 
tingling  with  curiosity;  but,  of  course,  dared 
ask  no  questions. 

That  evening,  after  Princess  and  I  had 
gone  to  our  room  in  the  George  Inn  at  Win- 
chester, there  came  a  light  tap  at  our  door; 
and  in  response  to  our  "Come  in,"  Helen  en- 
tered in  her  pink  kimona,  with  her  dark  hair 
floating  over  her  shoulders. 


IN  ENGLAND.  219 

"I  knew  that  you  were  dying  to  hear  what 
had  happened  in  Paris,"  she  said  when  Prin- 
cess had  given  her  a  chair  and  returned  to 
her  bed  to  curl  up,  like  myself,  among  the 
pillows. 

"You  had  perhaps  noticed  that  Auntie  was 
a  little  cool  to   Mr.  Andrus  before  we  left 
London?" 
We  nodded. 

"To  spare  your  feelings,  personal  and 
cousinly,  I  will  refrain  from  telling  you  what 
she  said  from  time  to  time  about  Western- 
ers, and  especially  about  young  men  from 
Chicago,  educated  at  small  'inland  institu- 
tions, called  colleges.'  As  she  has  experi- 
enced a  change  of  feeling,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
repeat  what  she  has  probably  forgotten  by 
this  time." 

Princess  sat  bolt  upright  and  punched  her 
pillows  vigorously,  but  said  nothing.  Helen 
stopped  speaking  and  smiled  roguishly  at  the 
fire. 

"Go  on"  commanded  Princess  at  length, 
"we  are  consumed  with  curiosity." 

"Well,    you    know    Auntie    has    always 


220  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

thought  she  could  speak  French.  She  can 
ask  about  'the  purple  silk  parasol  of  my 
grandmother's  cousin's  mother-in-law,'  and 
other  things  of  like  importance,  beautifully; 
but  in  Paris  people  talk  about  quite  different 
matters  and  they  do  it  rapidly.  So  Auntie 
developed  a  new  theory;  she  gave  up  trying 
to  speak  French,  which  the  Parisians  evi- 
dently didn't  understand;  she  said  probably 
they  spoke  a  dialect,  which  wasn't  like  the 
language  in  the  books.  She  seemed  to  think, 
at  least  she  acted  on  that  principle,  that  if 
she  only  spoke  loudly  enough  and  in  very 
broken  English,  she  could  not  fail  to  be  un- 
derstood. I  wish  you  could  have  heard  her." 

We  wished  so,  too,  Miss  Minerva  shriek- 
ing in  broken  F,nglish  must  have  been  a 
spectacle  for  men  and  angels. 

Helen  went  on,  "She  nearly  came  to  blows 
with  one  of  the  officials  in  the  Louvre  one 
day,  because  he  insisted  upon  knowing  the 
contents  of  a  package  she  was  carrying.  She 
read  him  a  long  lecture  on  the  beauty  of 
minding  one's  own  business;  this  greatly 
amused  all  the  visitors  in  the  gallery  and  be- 


IN  ENGLAND.  221 

wildered  the  poor  man,  who  could  only  shrug 
his  shoulders  and  spread  out  his  hands,  all  the 
while  politely  insisting,  as  was  his  duty,  that 
he  must  know  what  was  in  that  package. 

"One  day  when  she  had  no  money  in  her 
pocket,  she  climbed  to  the  top  of  an  omnibus 
without  noticing  that  the  vehicle  had  not 
waited  for  me.  She  was  carried  several 
blocks  before  she  could  make  the  man  let  her 
off.  He  stood  on  the  platform  and  watched 
her  until  she  met  me.  I  imagine  he  thought 
she  was  a  lunatic  and  1  a  careless  keeper. 

"Finally,  she  came  near  being  arrested  for 
refusing  to  pay  a  cabman  what  he  asked 
when  he  was  right  and  she  mistaken  in  her 
resistance.  In  the  midst  of  the  fracas,  Mr. 
Andrus,  who  had  came  that  day  to  a  hotel 
across  the  street,  and  who  like  every  one  else, 
had  had  his  attention  attracted  by  the  noisy 
dispute,  came  over,  paid  the  cabman,  satis- 
fied the  policeman,  and  explained  things  to 
Auntie. 

"Since  that  she  has  hardly  allowed  him  out 
of  her  sight  in  her  waking  hours;  and  with 
his  knowledge  of  the  city,  and  his  wide  ac- 


222  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

quaintance  with  art  and  music  students, — he 
helped  us  to  see  more  of  Paris  in  five  days 
than  we  could  have  seen  in  as  many  months 
without  his  aid." 

So  the  prophecy  of  Princess  and  her  wish 
had  alike  been  fulfilled,  and  Ned  had  became 
in  Miss  Bradford's  eyes  very  like  a  minister- 
ing angel. 

The  old  Saxon  capital,  the  Caerleon  of  the 
Arthurian  legends,  is  beautiful  enough  to  be 
the  center  of  all  the  interesting  bits  of  his- 
tory and  tradition  that  cluster  about  it.  The 
Ifley,  an  ideal  trout  stream,  clear  and  swift, 
with  amber  lights,  like  one  of  our  own  moun- 
tain brooks,  winds  at  the  north  end  of  the 
town.  It  bends  towards  the  old  city  in  grace- 
ful salute,  then  turns  away  again  to  look  af- 
ter its  own  multifarious  business.  One  un- 
derstands perfectly  why  Walton  was  an  en- 
thusiastic angler,  even  if  he  had  never  known 
the  Lea.  Any  person  with  a  spark  of  appre- 
ciation of  the  goods  the  gods  provide,  must 
needs  "be  quiet  and  go  a-fishing"  if  it  be  his 
fortune  to  dwell  beside  this  little  river. 

One  may  follow  for  some  time  both  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  223 

river  and  the  city  wall;  but,  after  a  while, 
he  is  forced  to  choose  between  them.  If  he 
follow  the  wall,  he  comes  at  last  to  the  noble 
buildings  of  Wykenham's  college.  They  are 
ideally  situated;  but,  despite  the  democratic 
motto,  this  college  touches  most  Americans 
less  nearly  than  Eton  and  Rugby. 

There  are  many  delightful  walks  in  and 
around  Winchester;  one  may  climb  to  the 
hill  outside  the  gate,  beyond  the  river,  and 
see  the  town  and  its  environs  spread  like  a 
map  at  his  feet.  He  may  stray  along  the 
crooked  streets,  through  the  Butter  Market 
with  its  graceful  Gothic  cross.  He  may  take 
the  southward  road  through  the  beautiful 
country  to  Saint  Cross  Hospital,  whose 
buildings,  substantial  and  quaint,  seem  an 
original  part  of  the  neighboring  town. 

There  is  also  the  County  Hall,  which  in- 
cludes the  old  Castle  of  Winchester,  the  royal 
residence  of  the  Saxon  kings,  and  some  even 
of  the  early  Norman  ones.  Inside  the  castle, 
there  hangs  on  the  wall,  a  relic  in  which  I,  for 
one,  should  like  to  believe,  the  so-called 
Round  Table  of  King  Arthur,  It  is  only  the 


224  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

oaken  top  of  a  large  circular  table ;  and  one 
guide-book  says  it  is  not  older  than  the  time 
of  King  Stephen;  but  the  custodian  assures 
his  willing  listeners  that  it  dates  from  the 
time  of  Egbert,  and  was  used  as  a  council- 
table  when  Royal  Winchester  was  the  moth- 
er city  of  England. 

Certainly  Henry  VII,  with  a  touch  of  ro- 
mance from  his  Welsh  ancestry,  believed  in 
the  table  and  caused  to  be  put  around  it  the 
iron  band  which  has  so  long  kept  the  treas- 
ured relic  from  falling  to  pieces. 

With  characteristic  thrift  the  king  charged 
the  expense  of  putting  on  the  band  and  paint- 
ing the  table  to  his  good  and  loyal  city ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  records  of  Winchester  bear 
witness  for  an  outlay  of  thirty  pounds  for  the 
above  mentioned  work,  done  in  preparation 
for  the  christening  of  the  Prince  Arthur 
whose  name  testifies  to  his  royal  father's  love 
for  the  legends  of  the  blameless  king. 

The  table  is  painted  in  alternate  segments 
of  green  and  white,  and  in  one  segment  is 
represented  the  king — in  the  robes  of  the 
Tudor  period;  in  the  middle  is  painted  the 


IN  ENGLAND.  225 

Tudor  rose,  and  the  names  of  the  knights 
are  done  in  black-letter  in  the  spelling  of  the 
fifteenth  century  as  used  by  Sir  Thomas  Ma- 
lory. 

Below  the  table,  in  the  wall,  is  a  contriv- 
ance after  the  pattern  of  a  horse's  ear,  where- 
by, we  are  told,  William  the  Conqueror,  him- 
self unseen,  was  wont  to  listen  to  the  conver- 
sation of  those  gathered  in  the  Hall. 

The  grounds  of  St.  Brede's  Abbey,  now 
the  city  park,  afford  a  most  picturesque 
lounging-place  for  one's  idle  hours.  This  is 
certainly  a  wise  and  beneficent  use  of  an  old 
monastic  foundation.  It  must  certainly  be 
well  for  a  community  to  spend  its  evenings 
and  holidays  in  a  spot  so  full  of  quiet  beauty. 

Last  of  all,  there  is  the  Cathedral.  Really, 
one  could  ask  nothing  better  than  be  allowed 
to  take  up  his  abode  in  Winchester  for  an 
entire  summer,  and  during  that  period  forget 
that  such  things  as  railways  exist.  In  case 
of  an  unexpected  attack  of  nostalgia,  South- 
ampton and  her  steamship  docks  lie  conven- 
iently near. 

The  noble  avenue  of  lime  trees  leading  in 


226  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

a  semi-circular  sweep  to  the  front  of  the 
Cathedral  forms  a  fitting  prelude  to  the  in- 
terior of  the  building.  As  a  whole  the  ex- 
terior is  somewhat  disappointing.  At  first 
sight  the  effect  is  squatty;  but  the  vast 
length  and  breadth  of  the  massive  pile,  and 
its  stately  west  front,  end  by  leaving  upon 
the  mind  an  impression  of  grandeur  and  sta- 
bility. 

For  a  building  apparently  so  low,  when 
seen  from  without,  it  produces  an  effect  of 
wonderful  height  when  one  enters.  This  is 
dounbtless  due  both  to  the  character  of  the 
roof  and  the  dignified  simplicity  of  the  clus- 
tered pillars,  which  sweep  in  an  unbroken 
line,  past  triforium  gallery  and  clerestory 
from  floor  to  ceiling. 

In  some  respects,  Winchester  Cathedral  is 
even  more  interesting  than  Westminster  Ab- 
bey. Its  memorials  to  greatness  are  fewer, 
made  with  more  discrimination;  and,  there- 
fore, have  their  full  effect  upon  eye  and 
mind. 

We  happened  to  arrive  near  service-time, 
and  some  official  beguiled  us  into  the  choir. 


IN  ENGLAND.  227 

Here  we  admired  the  beautiful  carving  of 
stalls  and  canopies  and  that  miracle  of  white 
stone,  the  reredos;  and,  incidentally,  we 
watched  the  evolutions  of  a  functionary  with 
a  silver-headed  stick,  who  between  readings 
and  chantings  escorted  various  ecclesiastics 
to  and  from  their  seats.  The  service  was 
mumbled,  the  singing  was  poor;  and  a  man 
in  skirts  is  a  ludicrous  object,  especially  when 
the  skirts  are  just  long  enough  for  the  man 
to  kick  them  up  with  his  heels  when  he  walks. 
If  robes  and  draperies  are  to  be  a  part  of  a 
clergyman's  dress,  why  not  have  them  grace- 
ful and  dignified  ?  Such  reading  as  we  heard 
here  is  calculated  to  make  one  think  favor- 
ably of  Sir  Roger  de  Coverly's  plan  for  equip- 
ping a  clergyman. 

When  we  made  our  escape  at  the  close  of 
the  service,  we  rejoiced  in  the  feast  before  us. 
The  Cathedral,  having  been  long  a-building, 
presents  almost  every  variety  of  Gothic  dec- 
oration, from  the  round  Norman  arches  of 
the  eastern  portion  to  the  perpendicular 
windows  of  the  west  end. 

Such  different  persons  are  buried  here  as 


228  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

William  Rufus — if  indeed  he  be — William 
Longsword,  Jane  Austen,  and  Izaak  Walton. 

The  author  of  the  book  on  Winchester  in 
Bell's  Cathedral  Series,  calls  attention  to 
the  fact  that  there  is  in  the  north  aisle  a 
monument  to  "Jane  Austen,  the  novelist, 
youngest  daughter  of  the  rector  of  Steven- 
ton  in  Hampshire,"  and  with  this  brief  no- 
tice dismisses  the  subject.  One  somehow 
gathers  that  in  this  gentleman's  eyes  Jane 
Austen's  relationship  to  the  rector  of  Steven- 
ton  is  of  greater  importance  than  her  re- 
nown as  a  novelist,  of  which  evidently  he  has 
heard  but  dim  rumors.  One  can  fancy  a 
twinkle  in  the  lady's  eye,  if  she  could  read 
this  notice;  for  she  ever  appreciated  a  good 
joke.  I  wonder  if  the  slower-witted  neigh- 
bors did  not  sometimes  feel  a  trifle  uncom- 
fortable in  the  presence  of  the  rector's 
slightly  satirical  daughter,  knowing  that  she 
saw  very  clearly  through  all  their  little  shifts 
and  shams;  feeling  vaguely  that  she  found 
something  amiss  with  them,  though  they  did 
not  know  what  it  could  be. 

If  one  desires  real  history,  if  he  wishes  to 


IN  ENGLAND.   J  "  229 

see  middle-class  life  in  well-to-do  country 
neighborhoods  in  the  closing  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century  and  the  beginning  of  the 
nineteenth,  let  him  study  Jane  Austen.  Here 
are  genuinely  historical  novels,  though  there 
rings  through  them  no  clash  of  swords  or 
clank  of  spurs,  and  not  one  of  her  respectable 
clergymen  or  substantial  country  squires  was 
ever  heard  to  say  "Splendor  of  God"  or  "By 
my  halidome."  Miss  Austen  wrote  of  life 
as  she  knew  it,  and  might  have  inscribed 
upon  each  of  her  title-pages  the  words  of  that 
tiresome  prig,  plus  Aeneas,  "All  of  which  I 
saw,  and  a  great  part  of  which  I  was." 

Not  far  away  from  the  novelist's  monu- 
ment stands  the  old  Norman  font  which  is 
one  of  Winchester's  treasures.  Upon  the 
sides  of  this  irregularly  quadrilateral  vessel  is 
carved  the  legend  of  St.  Nicholas  and  the 
three  dowerless  maidens.  The  carving  is 
done  in  the  usual  naive  style  of  the  unknown 
decorators  who  in  olden  days  covered  so 
many  square  feet  of  stone  with  the  legends 
of  saint  and  martyr,  giving  to  the  common 
people,  in  characters  which  they  could  un- 
derstand, both  Bibles  and  books  of  devotion. 


230 

This  series  of  miracles  inspires  great  re- 
spect for  the  common  sense  and  benevolence 
of  the  saint  in  question.  Since,  in  those  days, 
it  was  a  great  calamity  for  a  young  woman 
to  pass  her  twentieth  birthday  unwedded; 
and  since  she  could  not  hope  to  marry  to  any 
advantage  if  she  were  dowerless,  what  kinder 
and  more  practical  deed  could  good  St.  Nich- 
olas have  done  than  this  of  providing  three 
penniless  maidens  with  the  means  of  becom- 
ing respectable  and  respected  matrons  in  the 
shortest  possible  time? 

One  cares  little  for  William  Rufus  or 
Longsword,  or  even  poor  Queen  Mary's 
chair,  when  it  is  possible  to  stand  by  the 
tomb  of  Jane  Austen,  or  in  the  chapel  of 
Silkstede  at  the  far  end  of  the  church,  to 
read  the  inscriptions  upon  the  stone  that  cov- 
ers the  gentle  Angler.  All  who  are  fond  of 
tramps  by  wood  and  stream,  all  who  love  the 
ripple  of  brooks,  the  song  of  birds,  the  color 
and  perfume  of  wild-flowers,  must  have  a 
kindly  feeling  for  Walton,  even  though  ad- 


IN  ENGLAND.  231 

verse  circumstances  have  prevented  their 
committing  his  masterpiece  to  memory. 

The  epitaphs  on  the  tombstones  in  the 
Cathedral  close  are  interesting  reading;  and 
among  them  there  is  one  that  is  so  full  of 
truly  Saxon  and  bucolic  spirit  that  it  will  bear 
transcription  here : 

In  Memory  of 
THOMAS  THETCHER. 

a  grenadier  in  the  North  Regt.  of  Hants  Militia,  who 
died  of  a  violent  Fever  contracted  by  drinking  Small 
Beer  when  hot  the  I2th  of  May,  1764,  Aged  26  years. 

In  grateful  remembrance  of  whose  universal  good 
will  toward  his  Comrades,  this  Stone  is  placed  here  at 
their  expence  as  a  small  testimony  of  their  regard  and 
concern. 

Here  sleeps  in  peace  a  Hampshire  Grenadier, 
Who  caught  his  death  by  drinking  cold  small  Beer. 
Soldiers,  be  wise  from  his  untimely  fall, 
And  when  yere  hot,  drink  strong  or  not  at  all. 
This   memorial   being   decayed   was   restored   by   the 
Officers  of  the  Garrison,  A.  D.  1781. 

An  honest  soldier  never  is  forgot 
Whether  he  died  by  Musket  or  Pot. 
This  stone  was  placed  by  the  North  Hants  Militia 
when  disembodied  at  Winchester  on  26th  April,   1802, 
in  consequence  of  the  original  stone  being  destroyed. 


232  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

One  can  readily  see  how  much  importance 
is  attached  to  the  solemn  warning  conveyed 
by  the  untimely  fate  of  Thomas,  since  the 
original  stone  has  been  twice  replaced  by  a 
new  one.  Further  evidence  to  the  same  pur- 
port is  afforded  by  the  fact  that  the  writer 
who  dismisses  Jane  Austen's  tomb  with  such 
scant  notice,  copies  in  full  the  inscription 
upon  this  monument. 

It  was  at  Winchester  that  we  first  observ- 
ed that  while  Aunt  Minerva  grew  daily  more 
friendly  to  our  cousin,  Helen  seemed  more 
and  more  to  avoid  him,  so  that  he  scarcely 
ever  had  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  her. 

"Don't  worry,  dear,"  said  Princess  to  me. 
"It  will  be  all  right.  While  Aunt  Minerva 
was  in  the  opposition,  it  was  an  interesting 
game  to  dodge  and  get  ahead  of  her.  But 
now  that  obstacles  are  removed  and  she  re- 
alizes how  much  in  earnest  Ned  is,  the  little 
girl  is  frightened.  And,  really,  she  has 
known  him  such  a  short  time,  it  is  only  natur- 
al that  she  should  put  him  off  as  long  as  pos- 
sible. I  feel  like  helping  her,  now.  It  won't 
hurt  Mr.  Ned  to  wait  and  wonder  for  a  time ; 


IN  ENGLAND.  233 

it  takes  a  great  deal  to  discourage  him,  re- 
member. Besides,  it  will  be  his  "innings" 
again  when  we  are  on  board  the  steamer ;  he 
told  me  yesterday  that  he  had  engaged  his 
passage  on  the  Berneland,  with  some  diffi- 
culty, as  it  was  so  late.  He'll  have  ten  days 
free  from  Aunt  Minerva  and  in  general  from 
me.  You'll  have  to  be  the  discreet  duenna." 


CHAPTER  X. 

SALISBURY. 

Salisbury,  like  Winchester,  is  beautiful  for 
situation.  Here,  also,  the  Ifly  skirts  the 
town  and  renews  its  invitation  to  go  a-gypsy- 
ing  to  all  and  sundry  who  watch  its  dimpling 
smiles  and  give  ear  to  its  seductive  voice. 

Of  course,  the  chief  attraction  is  the  Ca- 
thedral whose  lofty  spire  can  be  seen  for 
miles  in  all  directions.  Every  cathedral  has 
its  own  especial  beauty;  and  in  trying  to 
think  which  is  the  favorite,  one  recalls  Ferdi- 
nand's boyish  confession: 

"For  several  virtues 
Have  I  liked  several  women." 

Salisbury  Cathedral  has  many  beauties, 
but  chief  among  them,  and  eclipsing  all  the 
rest,  is  the  spire,  exactly  right,  not  an  inch 
too  high  or  too  low,  one  of  the  few  perfectly 
satisfying  objects  in  a  sometimes  unsatisfac- 
tory world. 


IN  ENGLAND.  235 

Hard  by  Salisbury  is  the  little  village  of 
Bemerston,  with  its  tiny,  quaint  church,  whose 
rector,  once  on  a  time,  was  Holy  George 
Herbert.  The  modest  building,  overgrown 
with  ivy  and  shadowed  by  evergreens,  is  lov- 
ed of  those  who  know  well  the  verses,  often 
commonplace,  sometimes  whimsical,  but 
sometimes  also,  as  in  "Sunday"  and  the  "Pul- 
ley," exquisitely  beautiful,  of  the  Country 
Parson. 

He  is  as  sweet  and  wholesome  among  the 
loud-voiced  royalist  singers  of  his  day  as  a 
sprig  of  delicate  lavender;  a  fitting  com- 
panion for  Jeremy  Taylor  and  that  Puritan 
malignant  at  whom  both  clergymen  would 
doubtless  have  looked  askance,  John  Milton. 

Not  far  away  in  another  direction  is  Ames- 
bury,  to  whose  legendary  convent,  Guinevere 
retired  to  mourn  her  sins  and  learn  to  value 
justly  the  great  heart,  that  all  unnoted  of  her, 
had  beat  so  steadily  beside  her  for  years. 

Near  to  Salisbury,  also,  is  Stonehenge. 
The  walk  thereto,  through  Old  Sarum,  is 
pleasant,  like  all  rural  walks  in  England, 
whether  in  sun  or  shower,  provided  the  cows 


236  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

remain  considerately  in  the  background. 
However,  on  this  pilgrimage,  I  was  protect- 
ed by  all  my  companions,  who  kindly  refrain- 
ed from  laughing  at  my  fears,  a  style  of  be- 
havior which  I  appreciate  highly,  having 
often^net  with  another  variety.  It  is  humili- 
ating enough  to  scramble  over  the  nearest 
fence  at  sight  of  a  cow — warranted  inoffen- 
sive— without  having  one's  feelings  further 
lacerated  by  the  jeers  of  the  uncomprehend- 
ing. 

Stonehenge  is  mysterious  and  awe-inspir- 
ing, both  because  of  its  measureless  antiquity 
and  because  despite  all  theories,  no  one 
knows  for  what  it  was  intended.  Each  visi- 
tor has  therefore  the  privilege  of  calling  the 
circle  of  stones  whatever  seems  good  to  him, 
and  of  assigning  to  it  any  date  previous  to 
Caesar's  conquest,  without  fear  of  successful 
contradiction. 

But  to  Salisbury  and  its  environs  we  must 
bid  farewell;  for  southward  lies  King  Ar- 
thur's country,  the  Vale  of  Avalon. 


CHAPTER  XL 

WEJXS  AND   GI^ASTONBURY. 

Safe  hidden  in  Avalon's  island-vale 

He  sleeps,  the  king  who  knew  nor  shame  nor  fear; 

The  blameless  knight  who  finds  no  mate  or  peer 

In  song  or  legend,  history,  or  tale 

Told  by  the  winter-fire,  while  night-winds  wail, 

To  eager  youth  and  age.    Long  by  the  mere 

Lonely  and  sad  might  pace  Sir  Bedivere, 

On  the  white  sands,  and  watch  the  lessening  sail 

That  bore  his  lord  away.    He  comes  no  more. 

But  he  shall  live  again  in  song  and  rhyme, 

Shall  be  a  well-loved  man  for  many  a  day, 

As  long  as  ocean's  wave  beats  England's  shore, 

Till  rolling  cycles  bring  an  end  to  time 

And  pain  and  loss  forever  pass  away. 

We  took  up  our  quarters  at  Wells  in  a  tiny 
hotel  called  the  Clarence,  and  the  following 
was  the  occasion  and  manner  of  our  going 
thereto.  We  met  one  day  in  London  a  lady 
who  had  been  our  fellow-passenger  across 
the  Atlantic.  From  Liverpool  and  Chester 
she  had  gone  to  Bath  and  Wells,  and  was 


238  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

making  her  way  in  reverse  over  the  route 
that  we  had  laid  out  for  ourselves.  She  gave 
us  several  bits  of  valuable  information  and 
the  address  of  a  house  in  Jubilee  Terrace, 
Wells,  where  she  had  been  very  comfortable. 

It  was  a  hot,  uncomfortable  summer  after- 
noon when  we  arrived  at  Wells.  We  found 
in  charge  of  the  station  one  old  man,  very 
deliberate  of  speech  and  movement ;  and  no- 
where in  sight  was  anything  in  the  least  re- 
sembling a  cab.  We  made  inquiries  for  Ju- 
bilee Terrace.  The  Ancient  Mariner  of  an 
official  "  'Ad  never  'card  of  such  a  place, 
mum."  To  his  tender  mercies  we  at  length 
left  our  baggage  and  set  forth  to  seek  this 
Land  of  Promise. 

From  every  person  of  whom  we  inquired 
we  received  an  answer,  varying  slightly  in 
form,  but  equivalent  in  substance  to  that 
given,  by  the  station-master.  Evidently  no 
one  in  those  parts  had  ever  heard  of  Jubilee 
Terrace.  We  began  to  think  we  must  have 
dreamed  about  the  place;  though  as  Ned 
observed  it  was  remarkable  that  five  dif- 


IN  ENGLAND.  239 

ferent  individuals  should  have  had  an  identi- 
cal dream. 

At  last,  seeing  on  a  neighboring  fence  a 
painted  hand  pointing  toward  the  legend 
"The  Clarence,  Temperance  Hotel,"  we  de- 
cided to  wander  no  more  for  a  time,  at  least, 
through  the  white  sand  that  does  duty  for 
soil  at  Wells,  but  seek  the  Clarence  at  once, 
(incongruous  name  for  a  Temperance  hotel.) 
Our  good  angels  must  have  had  a  share  in 
that  decision.  We  were  offered  bed-rooms 
and  a  sitting-room  for  three  shillings  a  day 
each;  and  were  furthermore  told  by  our 
hostess  that  she  hoped  we  would  make  free 
use  of  the  tiny  piano  in  the  sitting-room,  and 
the  books  on  the  shelves  opposite.  We  after- 
ward found  that  the  books  contained  much 
valuable  matter  in  the  way  of  local  history 
and  legend. 

As  soon  as  we  had  agreed  with  our  hostess 
on  accommodations  and  terms  she  called  in  a 
boy  from  the  neighborhood  to  go  with  us 
and  bring  back  our  luggage.  Leaving  Miss 
Bradford  and  Princess  to  recuperate  in  their 
respective  rooms,  Ned,  Helen,  and  I  return- 


340  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

ed  to  the  station  with  the  boy  and  his  wheel- 
barrow, a  vehicle  of  a  size  altogether  dispro- 
portionate to  that  of  the  homunculus  who  fur- 
nished, its  motive  power. 

Arrived  at  the  station,  we  helped  the  lad  to 
pile  the  larger  articles  upon  the  wheelbarrow, 
and  ourselves  gathered  up  hang-bags,  shawl- 
straps  and  umbrellas ;  then  the  procession  re- 
formed. There  are  neither  sidewalks  nor 
pavements  in  this  part  of  the  town.  Ac- 
cordingly, falling  in  behind  the  barrow  and 
the  boy,  we  trudged  once  more  over  the 
sandy  way  that  led  to  the  Clarence  to  rest, 
hot  water,  and  supper. 

Such  a  supper  as  we  had!  I  have  eaten 
more  elaborate  meals;  but  never,  outside  a 
camp  in  the  Adirondacks,  one  that  tasted  so 
good.  I  do  not  now  recall  the  bill  of  fare; 
but  have  an  impression  that  it  consisted  of 
nectar  and  ambrosia,  and  ended  with  a 
draught  from  the  Fountain  of  Youth. 

Here  we  abode  for  several  days,  and  re- 
freshed ourselves  with  wanderings  along  the 
moat  that  surrounds  the  bishop's  palace-yard. 
This  is  a  charming  place  of  resort.  One 


IN  ENGLAND.  241 

comes  first  to  the  clear  green  water  on  which 
white-plumed  swans  are  floating;  and  under 
the  shade  of  the  limes,  one  may  sit  and  dream 
away  many  a  pleasant  hour.  One  may  also 
ramble  along  the  banks  of  the  moat,  still 
shadowed  by  the  fragrant  limes,  past  the  gar- 
den, and  back  near  the  wells — or  springs — 
that  give  the  city  its  name,  to  the  draw- 
bridge. This  one  may  cross,  and,  ringing 
at  the  gate,  find  himself  admitted  by  a  per- 
son in  sober  livery,  who  shows  strangers 
about  the  house,  the  lovely  wild-looking  gar- 
den, and  the  courtyard. 

In  the  garden  was  held  the  so-called  trial 
of  Whiting,  last  abbot  of  Glastonbury,  whom 
Henry  VII,  on  charge  of  treason,  first  dis- 
possessed of  the  abbey  and  then  hanged, 
finishing  his  thorough  work  in  these  parts 
by  causing  the  oldest  monastic  buildings  in 
England  to  be  destroyed  in  an  unsuccessful 
search  for  the  treasures  which  the  monks 
were  supposed  to  have  hidden  therein. 

A  part  of  the  palace  itself  is  a  tower  whose 
predecessor  was  destroyed  in  1703,  by  a 
storm  still  referred  to  as  "the  great  storm." 


242  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

It  was  this  manifestation  of  nature's  wrath  of 
which  Addison  made  use  in  his  much-dis- 
cussed simile  regarding  the  angel  guiding 
the  whirlwind. 

In  the  courtyard  grows  a  gnarled,  twisted 
shrub,  an  offshoot  from  the  Holy  Thorn  of 
Glastonbury,  which,  we  are  assured,  really 
does  blossom  in  December.  It  is  like,  yet 
unlike,  the  English  hawthorn,  and  is  un- 
doubtedly of  foreign  origin.  The  dwellers 
hereabouts  accounts  for  its  second  blooming 
by  the  mildness  of  the  winters  and  the  shel- 
tered position  of  the  shrub. 

The  two  churches,  St.  Cuthbert's  and  the 
Cathedral,  give  character  to  the  little  city; 
and  in  no  other  English  cathedral  have  we 
seen  such  elegance  and  richness  in  the  vest- 
ment of  clergy  and  choir  as  at  Wells. 

The  Cathedral  itself  one  remembers  chiefly 
for  the  peculiar  appearance  of  the  inverted 
black  marble  arches  in  the  choir.  There  is 
also  a  delightful  bit  of  carving,  a  representa- 
tion of  Jonah  and  the  whale,  whether  before 
or  after  the  man's  three  days'  sojourn  in  the 
monster  is  not  recorded.  They  appear  to 


IN  ENGLAND.  243 

be  on  the  most  friendly  terms.  The  whale 
is  standing  on  its  head,  with  its  tail  curled 
engagingly  over  its  back,  while  the  refractory 
prophet,  who  is  considerably  taller  than 
Leviathan  is  long,  leans  carelessly  with  his 
elbow  on  the  part  of  the  creature  that  in 
this  work  of  art  is  most  elevated.  (Ignorance 
of  comparative  anatomy  causes  me  to  refrain 
from  trying  to  name  that  part  of  the  sea- 
monster's  body  which  serves  as  support  for 
the  disappointed  traveler.)  The  composition 
of  this  work,  including  Jonah's  attitude  and 
expression  leads  the  beholder  to  suppose  that 
the  gentleman  knew  he  was  having  his  pic- 
ture taken. 

The  Cathedral  close  is  rather  dreary,  ow- 
ing to  the  almost  entire  absence  of  grass, 
the  soil  here,  as  elswhere  in  the  town,  being 
a  fine  white  sand.  The  nature  of  the  soil 
confirms  the  statements  of  both  tradition  and 
geology,  by  bearing  witness  to  the  fact  that 
this  part  of  England  was  once  covered  by  an 
arm  of  the  sea,  leaving  Glastonbury  and  its 
vicinity  an  island;  "the  island-valley  of 
Avilion." 


244  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

Even  yet  one  sees,  loaded  upon  the  trains 
that  come  and  go  at  the  little  stations,  bar- 
rels of  apples,  tubs  of  butter,  and  boxes  of 
cheese,  stamped  "Avalon."  One  look  at  the 
magic  word  annihilates  time  and  change,  and 
takes  us  back  fourteen  centuries  to  stand 
upon  the  shore  with  bold  Sir  Bedivere, 
watching  the  barge  with  Arthur  and  the 
three  queens  fade  into  mist,  while 

"On  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away." 

It  is  a  pleasant  drive  over  hill  and  dale 
from  Wells  to  Glastonbury.  The  old  village 
straggles  in  various  directions  from  the 
Market  Square,  near  which  we  find  our  way 
through  a  court  and  a  high  gate  into  the 
abbey  grounds. 

The  sloping  meadows  are  rich  and  green, 
and  the  sheep  feed  on  the  hillsides.  Here 
and  there,  parties  of  picnickers  sit  under  the 
trees  eating  prosaic  lunches;  and,  rather 
forlorn  and  lonely  save  for  their  kindly  cov- 
ering of  ivy,  we  find  the  few  remains  of  one 
of  the  most  interesting  buildings  in  England. 
Scarcely  anywhere  else  has  the  destruction 


IN  ENGLAND.  245 

of  a  monastery  been  so  complete.  Far  apart 
as  they  were,  both  Furness  and  Glastonbury 
were  involved  in  the  rising  against  Henry, 
after  the  passage  of  the  edict  abolishing 
monasteries;  but  though  Furness  aroused 
the  royal  anger  and  suffered  the  royal  ven- 
geance, the  work  of  destruction  was  not  so 
thorough  because  its  treasures  were  more 
easily  found. 

On  a  little  slope  behind  the  fallen  chancel, 
grows  the  Holy  Thorn.  The  shrub  was  cut 
down  by  some  overzealous  person  when  the 
Abbey  was  destroyed;  but,  springing  up 
again  from  the  roots,  it  still  remains,  with 
wiry,  twisted  branches,  and  leaves  few  and 
small,  the  patriarch  of  the  domain. 

Above  the  Abbey  grounds,  rises  in  the 
near  distance  the  rounded  top  of  Glastonbury 
Tor,  whereon  the  Abbot  Richard  Whiting 
was  hanged ;  and  whence  one  has  a  view  for 
miles  around  of  this  beautiful  storied  coun- 
tryside, as  fair  and  winsome  as  the  legends 
that  cluster  so  thickly  about  it. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOMEWARD    BOUND. 

We  had  thought  of  devoting  a  few  days  to 
Wales  on  our  way  back  to  Liverpool ;  but  we 
lingered  about  Wells  and  Glastonbury  for 
nearly  a  week,  and  awoke  suddenly  one 
morning  to  the  realization  that  in  two  days 
our  steamer  would  sail.  Accordingly,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  us  but  to  transfer  our 
belongings,  by  hand  and  wheelbarrow,  from 
the  Clarence  to  the  station,  and  take  the  train 
for  Bristol.  As  it  had  begun  to  rain  by  the 
time  we  reached  the  Queen  City,  we  decided 
to  go  directly  on  to  Liverpool  and  rest  there 
for  a  day  before  sailing. 

It  is  usually  true  that  passengers  home- 
ward bound  are  far  less  lively  and  social 
than  when  setting  out  upon  a  European  tour. 
They  are,  as  a  rule,  tired  and  in  a  hurry  ^to 
be  at  home  once  more,  and  fewer  entertain- 
ments are  planned.  So  it  was  on  board  the 
Berneland. 


IN  ENGLAND.  247 

Miss  Minerva,  of  course,  took  to  her  berth 
from  the  start.  Princess  kept  up  her  cour- 
age for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  retired,  tem- 
porarily, from  active  life.  I  read  or  slept  on 
deck  in  my  steamer-chair,  while  Ned  and 
Helen  sat  near  me  chatting,  took  long  con- 
stitutionals, played  shuffle-board,  or  teased 
me  about  my  inactivity. 

They  were  very  quiet,  Ned  did  not  joke 
much,  but  seemed  grave  and  earnest,  some- 
times almost  troubled.  Helen  was,  as  Prin- 
cess said,  "beautifully  cunning,"  and  I  watch- 
ed her  with  interest  and  admiration. 

The  night  before  our  landing,  we  three 
were  sitting  on  the  deck  in  the  moonlight, 
when  I  suddenly  realized  that  my  two  com- 
panions had  been  silent  for  a  long  time.  We 
were  the  only  persons  on  deck,  as  most  of  the 
passengers  were  below  arranging  their  bag- 
gage for  "inspection"  the  next  day. 

With  some  remark  about  "getting  out  of 
the  wind,"  I  moved  over  toward  the  bow 
and  settled  myself  in  some  one's  vacant  deck 
chair.  With  the  obtuseness  common  to  per- 
sons in  their  state,  both  failed  to  notice  that 


248  PRINCESS  AND  PILGRIM 

there  was  a  head  wind  that -blew  my  veil 
about  and  almost  carried  away  my  rugs. 

I  remained  in  this  airy  position  until  I  was 
chilled  to  the  bone,  and  then  started  to  go 
below. 

As  I  passed  my  two  friends  I  heard  Ned 
say  gently, 

"So  then,  we  shall  come  back  next  summer 
and  go  over  all  this  ground  again,  without 
Aunt  Minerva." 

I  went  swiftly  down  to  the  state-room 
which  I  shared  with  Princess  and  the  instant 
I  entered  that  young  woman  cried  out,  wav- 
ing the  novel  she  had  been  reading, 

"You  needn't  waste  words  in  telling  me. 
I  know  all  about  it.  Your  face  speaks  for 
you." 

Aunt  Minerva  visited  Ned  and  Helen  in 
their  Chicago  home  last  winter,  and  Princess 
and  I  were  invited  there  also.  The  good 
lady  is  learning  by  slow  degrees  that  quite  an 
important  part  of  our  country  lies  west  of 
the  Connecticut  Riven 

THE    END. 


BY "HORACEiMANN" 

The  Chicago  Examiner  says  of  it : 

U  A  FORCIBLE  story  of  dramatic  inten- 
sity and  unusual  interest,  this  ro- 
mance is,  nevertheless,  without  an  ac- 
credited author.  The  publishers,  the 
Lucas-Lincoln  Company,  Washington, 
assert  that  the  author  desires  to  keep  his 
identity  unknown,  although  it  has  been 
stated  that  he  is  a  well-known,  popular 
literary  favorite  and  a  native  of  Indiana. 
This  gives  rise  to  a  wealth  of  surmise. 
We  are  informed  that  Mr.  Tarkington 
will  neither  deny  nor  affirm  the  rumor 
that  he  is  the  author.  Nor,  for  that  mat- 
ter, will  George  Ade,  McCutcheon,  or 
Nicholson  acknowledge  the  authorship. 
Whoever  did  write  this  book  has  no  cause 
to  be  ashamed  of  it.  Beyond  cavil  it  is 
one  of  the  best  novels  of  the  day.  Strik- 
ingly original  in  plot,  treatment  and 
character  delineation.  The  scenes  are 
full  of  action  and  the  book  overflowing 
with  romance,  excitement,  startling  sit- 
uations, intrigue,  love  and  all  those  strik- 
ing qualities  which  endear  fiction  to  the 
heart  of  the  reader.  It's  a  book  you  won't 
relinquish  until  you  have  completed.  We 
do  not  know  who  the  author  is,  but  who- 
ever he  is,  he  has  every  right  to  be  proud 
of  his  achievement." 

Cloth,  13  mo.    $1.00 

THI  LUOAS- LINCOLN  COMPANY 

WASHINGTON,    D.    C. 


READ  HORACE  MANN'S 
REMARKABLE  NOVEL 

THE  MAGAZINES  SAY:— "A  really  remarkable  nar- 


cinating"— "Most  ingenuously  told" — "Quite  unusual" 

"ANY  ONE  COMPELLED  TO  SIT  UP  AT 
NIGHT  WAITING  FOR  A  TRAIN  WOULD 
FIND  NO  DIFFICULTY  IN  KEEPING 
AWAKE  WITH  A  COPY  OF 


(MLD 

DESTROY!! 

IT    IS  THE    SORT    OF   BOOK    THAT    ONCE 
BEGUN    CANNOT   BE   LAID    DOWN" 

— Irvdia.i\a.polis  News 

THE  NEWSPAPERS  SAY  :— "This  is  a  wonderful 
novel" — "No  stronger  piece  of  fiction  has  been  written" 
— "It  will  be  the  hit  of  the  season" — "Remarkably  inter- 
esting, natural,  pathetic"  —  "Well  told"  —  "Clever"  — 
"Weird"  —  "Strong"  —  "Most  unusual"  —  "Thrilling"  — 
"Photographic" — "Phonographic" — "Powerful  and  origi- 
nal"— "Absorbingly  interesting" 

ORDERTHROUGH  YOUR  DEALER 
Cloth    :    12mo    :    $1.00 


PUBLISHERS 


WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


PRINCESS  AND 
PILGRIM 
IN  ENGLAND 


BY ... 

I     SHILP® 


This  is  the  first  of  a  series  of  entertaining  books  of  travel 
to  be  written  by  Miss  Sheldon  and  others,  and  to  be  published 
under  the  general  heading  of  The  Familiar  Guide  Series. 

It  is  intended  to  make  these  books  interesting  in  a  general 
way  and  at  the  same  time  companion  pieces  of  the  Baedeker 
guide  books  such  as  will  tell  you  in  a  familiar  and  entertaining 
manner  of  the  principal  things  to  be  seen  in  any  country.  The 
Baedekers  serve  tlieir  purpose  in  a  dry  way,  but  give  no  criti- 
cal and  companionable  insight  into  the  places  described.  It  is 
to  fill  this  want  that  THE  FAMILIAR  GUIDES  are  to  be  pub- 
lished. 

Cloth,  12mo.     $1.25 
ORDER.  THROUGH  VS    OR   YOUR.  DEALER. 

TH  E 
LUO  AS- LINCOLN 

C  O  W  P  A  IM  Y 

Publishers  WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    000  036  202    o 


